










LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 


Shelf- 'Bs.siM 




























M>toxuQ b2 porter. 

CHARITY, SWEET CHARITY. 

FOUNDATIONS ; or, Castles in the Air. 

IN THE MIST. 

OUR SAINTS. 

A SONG AND A SIGH. 

THE STORY OF A FLOWER. 

SUMMER DRIFTWOOD FOR THE WINTER 
FIRE. 

UPLANDS AND LOWLANDS. 

THE WINTER FIRE. 

YEARS THAT ARE TOLD. 

The 10 volumes in a box, $10.00 ; or sold separately at 
$1.00 each. 

HONORIA. $1.00. 

A MODERN ST. CHRISTOPHER. $1.25. 
DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. $1.25. 

^nson ?ID. f. Kanbolij!) ^ QTompans, 

38 West Twenty-third St., New York. 



DRIFTINGS FROM 
MID-OCEAN. 


CHARACTER STUDIES. 

A SEQUEL TO 

SUMMER DRIFT-WOOD 

AND 

THE WINTER FIRE. 


BY 

ROSE PORTER. 

»/ 


^OPYRIGHr 

' SEP 24 1889 / 


NEW YORK: 

ANSON D. F. RANDOLPH & COMPANY, 

38 WEST TWENTY-THIRD STREET. 


r^3 

JJ AJ 


COPYRIGHT, 1889, BY 
ANSON D. F. RANDOLPH & COMPANY. 


E. O. JENKINS’ SONS, PRINTERS, 
20 N. WILLIAM STREET 
NEW YORK, 


CONTENTS 


PART I. 

I— The Past and the Present, 

II. — The Secret of Perpetual Youth, . 

III. — Drift-Wood Treasures, 

IV. — Alice Fraser and Madie Leigh, 

V. — Character Studies and a Question, . 

VI.— Spiritual Environment, 

VII. — A Retrospect. — Links with Heaven, 

VIII. — Happiness a God-given Privilege, . 

IX.— God’s Uplands 

X. — Shadow Pictures, . . . . 

XL — Miracles. — Argument Fails, Action 
Conquers, 

XII.— Golden Hours, . . . 

XIII. — Venice and a Love Story, 

XIV. — Herbert Griffin’s Trial, . 

XV.— A Cloud in the Sky 


PACE 

5 

10 

14 

25 

34 

43 

52 

59 

69 

74 

87 

92 

97 

106 

113 


(V) 


VI 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

XVI.— Revelations of Individuality, . 121 
XVII.— The Influence of Nature, . . 127 

XVIII.— A Talk of the Hereafter, . 132 

XIX.— Sabbath Twilight, . . . .140 

XX. — Life Before — Death Behind, . 147 
XXL— The “Still, Small Voice," . .150 

XXII. — A Key to Life’s Mystery, . .153 

XXIII. — From Earth to Heaven, . .157 

XXIV. — Humanized Religion, . . ..160 

XXV. — Stephen Forbes. — A Chapter of 

Darkness, 166 

XXVI. — A Lull Before the Storm, . . 178 

XXVIL— Providence Solves an Enigma, . 186 

XXVHI. — Milicent Ward.— Partings, . 191 
XXIX.— Good and Evil, ..... 198 

XXX.— Farewell to Rome, and Wel- 
come TO England, . . .207 


PART II. 

I.— Memory’s Store-House, . . . .211 

H. — A Clear Shining after Rain, . . 219 

III. — Madie— A Changeling, . . . .231 

IV. — Harry Griffin’s Warfare, . . .238 


CONTENTS. vii 

PAGE 

V. — Light and Shade, 248 

VI. — Ralph Sterling.— Pause-Places, . 252 

VII.— Faith its own Evidence, . . .256 

VIII. — The Moon of Roses and a Letter, 260 

IX.— God Is Love, 268 

X.— A Dead Past, 270 

XL — Frank Howland. — Creeds, . . .277 

XII. — Too Late, 283 

XIII. — The “ Our Father” Title, . . .291 

XIV. — The Name of Mr. Howland’s God, 301 

XV.— Stepping Westward, . . . .305 

XVL— Waiting— AND then— “Home! where 

lives Joy,” 307 



\ 

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1 



i . . 




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PART I. 


“ Looking back along life’s trodden way, 
Gleams and greenness linger on the track : 
Distance melts and mellows all to-day, 
Looking back. 

Rose and purple and a silvery-gray. 

Is that cloud the cloud we called so black ? 
Evening harmonizes all to-day. 

Looking back. 

Foolish feet so prone to halt or stray. 

Foolish heart so restive on the rack ! 
Yesterday we sighed, but not to-day. 

Looking back.” 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


I. 


EARS ago, to please my grandfather, 



JL I kept my ‘‘Summer Driftwood” di- 
ary. Later, still in accordance with his wish, 
I penned the “Winter-Fire” journal, and 
when I came to the last page of each I said : 
“ I will never keep another such record of my 
life’s story: as for the history traced every pass- 
ing hour on the tablets of the heart, why, that 
must go on till mortal life goes out.” Never- 
theless, I decide to change my mind ; for yes- 
terday, when I was looking over my father’s 
papers, I found a letter written years ago by 
grandpapa, and it contains the request that 
I should tell what my experiences of sorrow 
and joy, success and failure, mean when viewed 
from the half-way place we call life’s meridian. 
Grandpapa also bids me tell wherein my spir- 


( 5 ) 


6 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


itual vision has widened and wherein nar- 
rowed ; and what influence has been exerted 
on my mind and heart by the modern impa- 
tience of dogma and the interpretations of 
old faiths by the new light of what many 
earnest people regard as an increase of knowl- 
edge, broader belief, and more expansive love. 
As I ponder these questions I find them en- 
vironed with issues that I can only meet by 
telling you of my life as it is closely linked 
with other lives : for my individual experience 
is a mere feeble heart-beat, but thus united it 
will become allied to the warm living throb 
of the great pulsing heart of humanity, just 
as a unit helps to count a hundred or a rain- 
drop to form a shower. The knowledge that 
companionship is vitality, while isolation is 
death, decides me to begin this record now, 
when I stand as it were on the threshold of a 
new life. For next week I expect to join a 
party of friends, with whom I plan spending 
several years in foreign travel. I will briefly 
explain how it happens that I am thus leaving 
home, and then pass on to the day of sailing. 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN 


7 


You will remember my grandfather’s death, 
and how soon after it father and I left the 
city. We came to this dear old homestead, 
which my father inherited, when Aunt Stella’s 
earthly pilgrimage ended. From that time 
on, till three months ago, the days came and 
went, one much like the other, and unmarked 
by any startling event. But then there dawned 
a morning which heralded the day of days for 

me : — it left me orphaned ! It was all very 

sudden. Father was strong and well when 
the sun rose, — cold and still when it set, — for 
at noontime “ God’s finger touched him and 
he slept,” while Heaven’s Gate opened and his 
soul entered within the veil,” and Christ re- 
vealed that 

“ Death is not to His followers 
So much even as the lifting of a latch ; 

Only a step into the open air, 

Out of a tent already luminous 
With light that shines through the transparent 
walls ! ” 

I will not dwell on details, the facts are 
sufficient, and they are encompassed by won- 


8 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

derful manifestations of the Heavenly Fa- 
ther’s tender pity, and of Christ’s nearness. I 
do not mean that I realized the comfort of 

that pity and nearness just at first. No — I 

had to sit in the pain and wait for God to 
bind up. It was while I was thus waiting 
that the peace came, for it was then that I 
caught a gleam of the precious truth that my 
very grief gave me a right to come close to 
Christ, for by it part of the woe this world 
bears for sin was laid on me, and I must lift 
it with Christ. He does not bear the Cross 
alone — neither does He ask His followers 
to bear it alone. He is touched by our feel- 

ings — He knew a moment of the vanishing 
parent, and by the cry — Why hast Thou for- 
saken me?” surely I know. He knows the 

agony of separation Later, even in the 

midst of my desolation, I found how much is 
still left me that is worth living for if I will 
only accept it in the way the Lord provides. 
Thus it is that this great sorrow of my mid- 
life has come freighted with meanings my 
youth-time grief only faintly discerned, and it 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


9 


explains why much that gave me sweet and 
soothing solace then, is now empty of conso- 
lation ; and yet, the comfort I now find is the 
fruit of the seed sown in the furrows of that 
early sorrow, for the prayers planted then are 
ripened blessings now ! 


II. 


I SAID I would straightway begin my nar- 
rative, and yet I linger over these pref- 
ace pages, partly because there is something 
so solemn in a commencement, for it must re- 
mind of an end, and partly because I am ab- 
sorbed to-day, wondering why my father so 
long withheld grandpapa’s request for this 
after-math journal. I suppose one reason is, 
that father could not realize that I had turned 
the corner that leads from youth to maturity. 
Thirty-five last June! No more youngness 
for me as the world counts, but to him to the 
very end I was little Annie and he was 
the father my childhood knew. I turned to 
him with the same confidence and rest I then 
felt in his superior strength and wisdom ; he 
continued the providence of home.” This 
unchangeableness in the relation of parent 
and child is so beautiful and tender, and it so 

(lo) 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


II 


helps toward the understanding of God’s Fa- 
therhood. As I think of the future, and the 
service for Christ with which I would fain fill 
it, my desire seems centred on the longing to 
help others toward this blessed knowledge of 
God as a Father. 

To return to the subject of age. What a 
strange thing it is, and what an odd way it 
has of receding as we approach it ; it is odd, 
too, that age is something we think less about 
as we begin to grow old ! — But that is as it 
should be — for what is age after all? To my 
mind the early masters in Art bring out its 
real meaning with greater force than any of 
the many who have striven to portray it. I 
have always been glad they were wise and 
pious enough to grasp the idea of God as the 
Alpha and Omega, the First and the Last 
and while this led them to represent the Al- 
mighty as the “ Ancient of Days,” it also led 
them to encircle Him with clouds of day- 
dawn upheld by cherubs with faces innocent 
as smiles and sweet as the flowers of spring. 
This portrayal by Art of God, as the young- 


12 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN, 


est and the oldest of Beings,” is surely an 
echo of the revelation He grants His children 
of the perpetual youth of those who wait on 
Him, and renew their strength and mount up 
with wings as eagles : They who run and are 
not weary, who walk and are not faint.” These 
words so tell of continuing growth, new and 
fresh spiritual life ; and this does not cease 
even when the physical life begins to show 
signs of waste and decay. It contains, too, 
the assurance of immortality, and that illu- 
mines daily life, its simple duties and common 
affections, with sacredness and glory. If I 
could constantly remember this, how it would 
help aspiration and increase earnestness in 
prayer and patient waiting for God’s will in 
answer. I suppose if I truly possessed that 
patience I would be always cheerful and glad 
with the joy St. Paul linked with sorrow. By 
which I infer he means that the trials and dis- 
cipline of the present are nothing when com- 
pared to the abiding joy of the Hereafter. 
This thought makes me so long to use trials 
in a way that will promote that joy ; and the 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


13 


knowledge that they can be thus used so 
helps over rough places, and using the power 
one has is such a sure way of gaining greater- 
power. It is a duty also, for 

“ Those who wait 

To meet the Bridegroom, they must trim their lamps, 
And seek the oil from Heaven ; and those who own 
Him Master, and from Him their gifts receive. 

Must bring their talents — two, or five, or one — 

With usury to their Lord.” 


III. 


CIRCUMSTANCE occurred last even- 



ing which, in the presence of grand- 
papa’s request, so assumes the form of a 
metaphor illustrating the significance of the 
events I propose to record, I pause to note 
it. It had been a gray day, with frequent 
brisk showers ; toward sunset I stood on the 
western balcony watching to see if the clouds 
would lift, and it was then my neighbor’s 
child came running up the garden walk, bring- 
ing what at the first glance appeared to be 
simply a basketful of chips, but on investiga- 
tion I found the basket was laden with drift- 
wood from mid-ocean, and hence rich in the 
eloquent, pitiful language by which such me- 
mentoes tell the tragedies of storm and wreck. 

“ Mother sent them. Miss Annie, and when 
you light a fire they will show you beautiful 
colors.” 


(14) 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


15 


This was the little lad’s explanation of the 
gift, but words were not needed to explain 
their message to me ; and as I lifted the wave 
and weather beaten fragments from the bas- 
ket, each one seemed laden with a sigh. All 
in a moment, too, my soul’s eye, that spirit- 
ual organ which knows no limit of time or 
distance, was traversing the eastern boundary 
of the Atlantic States^; vihile I wondered where 
the in-rolling waves ha.d deposited these special 
waifs of wreck which I held in my hand, and 
what wild storm had freed them from the 
prison of the deep, and given them to the 
billows of the upper waters to scatter in a 
thousand different places from Maine to Flor- 
ida. I wondered, too, whether they had been 
dashed in angry fury against rocky cliffs and 
out-jutting reefs, or had they floated land- 
ward on white foamy surf-line waves that 
creep far up the low-lying land of sandy 
shores ? 

These are but a few of the many questions 
suggested by those bits of broken spars, shat- 
tered masts, and battered sea-furniture. And 


1 6 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

the fact that their story was commonplace 
served to give them an added pathos. I could 
not keep tears from my eyes as I remembered 
how silently and swiftly the gallant life-freight- 
ed vessels, of which they had once made a 
part, had vanished from the path of ocean 
travel ; so completely too, in many cases only 
a brief hour after the awesome tragedy, the 
keenest eye of the keenest mariner could no 
more tell the place where the waves opened 
to engulf them, than he could tell where yes- 
terday’s raindrop stirred a ripple in the glassy 
surface of the calm water he sails to-day. And 
yet sailors maintain that the sea never ceases 
to moan ; that sighs underlie the gay dancing 
waves — just as tears are the background of 
rainbows. This is, of course, a mere supersti- 
tion, nevertheless it appeals tenderly to me, 
for the sea is Jack’s tomb, and that means my 
heart’s grave. For my life has never been the 
same since he sailed over the blue smiling 
waves in the glad light of early morning, not 
to return when twilight settled in gray gloom 
on sea and shore. 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


17 


I say life has never been the same, for sor- 
row is like a circle ; when once we enter it, 
truly it becomes a ring encompassing all our 
after-years. Somehow it seems able also to en- 
circle the past, and thus to make it, too, a part 
of our present and future. It is this which 
keeps an underlying unity and harmony in 
life, even when circumstances and surroudings 
are most eventful and full of change, for we 
know 

‘‘ By one pervading Spirit .... 

All things are controlled.” 

This brings me back to the thought of yes- 
terday, that to a Christian every sorrow has a 
joy of its own linked with it — ^joy being some- 
thing very unlike happiness. — Thus no life 
earnest in purpose can fail to find gleams of 
light blended in with shades of darkness. 
This truth never seems so real and dear as 
when separation from our best loved ones 
comes like a wide sea dividing the mortal 
from the immortal, the seen from the unseen ; 
for then God’s love, of which Christ is the 
Revealer, interprets for us, that had there 


1 8 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

been no such rending apart, no death here, 
there could be no reunion and life There ; 
for our Lord Christ only became the Resur- 
rection Life by passing through the mystery 
and darkness of the tomb, thus making for 
all believers the grave. Heaven’s Golden 
Gate.” 

I have wandered from the treasures of drift- 
wood which I left lying on the library- 
table while I returned to the balcony to watch 
Bennie Blake run home, and to take another 
skyward look. Five minutes compassed the 
time of my absence, but when the sun is near- 
ing the western horizon five minutes can work 
a marvel of change and beauty. Yet I was 
unprepared for the scene that greeted my re- 
turn, for so swiftly had the curtain of cloud 
and mist furled up and rolled away, I could 
but wonder — where had it gone? Not a ves- 
tige was left save a billowy mass of fleecy 
vapor, and that was no longer gray and misty, 
for lights were playing over it in sweet con- 
fusion of subdued ruby and rosy flashes with 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


19 


tints of softened violet, pale yellow and bur- 
nished gold, which were as unlike the afore- 
time dull-hued storm clouds as the face of a 
happy maiden is unlike the countenance of a 
woman of sorrowful soul. But despite this 
difference, full well I know all that glory and 
brightness was caught from the sunbeams 
shining on the clouds ! This fact suggested a 
metaphor unlike the one hinted by the drift- 
wood, but it was none the less helpful in in- 
terpreting the meaning of mortal existence. 
As for the tree-tops that hour, they were like 
crowns of gold as they swayed gently to and 
fro, keeping time with the music of. the wind 
which at sundown was hardly more than a 
breeze. The birds, too, were singing after the 
rain, the low tender chants of their even-song, 
and that held still another emblem for me to 
unravel, and then weave into this record. 
And yet the birds’ song did not suggest any new 
thought, it only emphasized a familiar truth, 
but alas! one I am often slow to heed. For what 
is the meaning of song after storm, if it be not 
the birds’ way oAidding mortals remember 


20 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


All God does if rightly understood 
Shall work thy good ? ” 

I wonder why I so lag behind the winged 
songsters in giving utterance to this truth. 
Is it because I lack their trust ? And, — though 
the birds of the air are soulless in the higher 
sense of the word — I wonder too, is their gift 
of song a pledge that when our Saviour chose 
them as teachers of the tender lesson of God’s 
providing care for His creatures, He freed 
them from the bondage wherewith the rest of 
creation “groaneth and travaileth in pain”? 
Certain I am, though I were to listen all day 
and all night long, I never could catch so 
much as the faintest cry or moan in the song 
of birds. Perhaps it was thinking of this, or 
perchance it was the memories stirred by the 
gift of drift-wood, that made the going down 
of the sun last night something very solemn 
to me. And the emotion was intensified by 
the fact that almost immediately after the 
shining orb sank below the horizon, the vapor 
floating like a flock of white-winged doves 
above the boundary line i^ich marks the 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN 


21 


meeting-place of earth and sky, lost its bright 
color, and became again a gray bank of cloud, 
charged with such a chill wind I was glad to 
re-enter the house and close windows and 
doors. And then I set fire to a few splints 
of the wood, not because I needed the warmth, 
but because I was eager to observe the rare 
and wonderful flame-power I knew it pos- 
sessed. I started the blaze with two or three 
of the most battered splints ; they seemed 
the ones most likely to have caged memories ; 
and truly they revealed hints of beauty and 
clearness of color I have never seen rivalled, 
for they flashed out hues rich and exquisite 
as the tints of flowers and shine of gems; 
red, yellow, and purple flame jets, blended 
into shadings, that were delicate as shadowy 
anemones, deep-hearted violets, harebells, and 
clover. One special piece caught the first 
spark, and burned with such marvellous per- 
sistence and brilliancy it half frightened me. 
It was a weird bit, encrusted by barna- 
cles and tiny shells, and deep dyed by sea 
pigments — vivid green, burnt umber, and 


22 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID^OCEAN. 


lurid shades of terra-cotta. There was some- 
thing so lonely and mysterious in the light of 
that drift-wood fire I longed for human com- 
panionship, and I was glad when the village doc- 
tor came, even though it was to bid me good- 
bye. He was a kindly, scholarly man, with a 
note of cheerfulness in his voice that at once 
broke the spell-like mystery of that dumb yet 
seemingly living flame. Doctor Flint was 
keen-sighted too, and one glance told him that 
I was saddened by the burning of those wreck 
fragments that only gave out their beauty of 
color when thus tested and tried by fire. — 
And with no delay he untwisted a tangle of 
sea- weed from the wood that lay on the table, 
while he said, with one of those rare smiles 
— that in a moment make a rugged face 
beautiful — “ Don’t look so sober. Miss Annie ; 
remember the ocean yields flowers and grasses 
which are fuller than these broken bits of 
wreck, of types significant of your life.” 

But are they ? 

And then Doctor Flint bade me examine the 
feathery delicate trails and sprays of the grass 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


23 


he had unknotted from its close clasp around 
the wood. Held before the firelight, the web 
of weed was so ethereally delicate it seemed al- 
most like tinted mist. “ But we mistake in call- 
ing it either weed, flower, or grass,” the doctor 
said ; and he reminded me of the fact that the 
dainty spray had once been a home, tenanted 
by myriads of minute organisms, and that each 
of those tiny spars and points had been en- 
dowed with a life-work. — I knew the lesson 
the old man sought thus gently to teach me. 
Yes, its meaning was easy to read — and yet — 
so hard to live. — I realized this as I thought 
how the invisible toil of an ephemeral point, 
conspiring with others in one great design, 
have converted the liquid waters into solid 
rock, the ocean into dry land,” and how year 
after year their patient toil had continued till 
years grew to decades, and decades to cen- 
turies. — ^Yes, surely, the lesson the little zoo- 
phyte teaches me is Patience. I am glad Doctor 
Flint bade me observe it just now when I am 
about beginning a journal. Glad because the 
wonders of Nature run so parallel to the story 


24 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


of mortal life, they give me courage to believe 
with the help of patience, I will understand 
the characters of my travelling companions. 
But I must keep in mind that in my study of 
character, as in the study of Nature, I will en- 
counter many surprises, and some of them 
will dissipate cherished fancies and ideals. 
This experience will be a trifle hard, yet how 
often in destroying my fairest fancies Nature 
has revealed far lovelier realities ; and so it 
may be in my knowledge of the world of 
hearts. 


IV. 



ITHOUT more of a preface I think 


T V you will understand how I came to 
make one of the group who this morning 
watched the shore of the dear home-land 
fade into distance. By my side stood Alice 
Fraser and Madie Leigh, two young girls — 
one aged twenty, the other eighteen — whom I 
had promised to ** Mother'’ during our sojourn 
abroad. Not a light task, as I soon learned, 
and yet I undertook it with no more forebod- 
ing of care than a raindrop feels when it falls 
on an opening bud, that holds either the germ 
of future fruit or a blighted seed. 

But I will not linger to moralize, for I want 
to introduce you to my companions. I re- 
gret that I must do this by written, rather 
than spoken words, nevertheless it is thus you 
must learn to know Alice and Madie and the 
other members of our party. It consisted of 


(25) 


26 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

the Mr. and Mrs. Howland father and I met 
during the mountain-top days of my girlhood’s 
beautiful, happy summer — and their son and 
daughter, Frank and Edith, who were little 
children then — but who now are in the full 
strength and gladness of their youth. The 
Griffin brothers, Harry and Herbert, also be- 
longed to our party, and a Mr. Stephen Forbes, 
a friend of Harry Griffin. I will begin my de- 
scription of the appearance and marked traits 
of this little company with Madie, she being 
an easy creature to thus portray. Quite un- 
like Alice, who is such a difficult subject, she 
reminds me of a strain of music, which, as you 
know, is something so intangible, any effort to 
express the phraseology of melody by simple 
technicalities involves inextricable confusion, 
and yet, — and hence its analogy with Alice, — 
indefinable as music is, nothing is more rich 
in suggestion. 

To return to Madie. She was the sunshine 
of the group ; and if the Seasons are re- 
garded as emblems of life, she was, too, 
emphatically a summer-day child. In truth, 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


27 


the eighteen years of her earthly existence 
had not known so much as an hour of wintry 
weather in a spiritual sense. This greatly in- 
creased the responsibility I incurred by taking 
her under my care, for an untried character is 
so full of possibilities, and the test-touch of 
new experiences brings out such unlooked-for 
traits. I had a dim half-consciousness of this 
to-day, just after sailing, for I caught a hint 
that the whole of Madie had not yet ex- 
panded. Hence as yet she is only herself, 
and that must always mean incompleteness, 
for it means that a soul has not yet entered 
into oneness with the kingdom of Heaven 
which is within the heart. 

In among these grave thoughts — like bluets 
blossoming in a corn-field — I wondered what 
the verdict of society would be regarding this 
maiden. Would she be called pretty and en- 
gaging? As I looked at her, smilingly I 
murmured. Yes. For Madie has the face 
of early morning. She is fair, her eyes blue 
and radiant with hope, while her complexion 
has the soft, delicate coloring which makes 


28 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN 

the youthful beauty of a blonde something 
so sweet and flower-like. Her mouth cannot 
be described by line and rule, neither can the 
dimpling smiles that play about it, as sun- 
shine plays with shadow. She has winsome 
ways, too, and a rippling laugh, while the 
tones of her voice are full and clear. This is 
the Madie outward observers behold, and it 
is a pleasant picture. But the question presses 
on my heart. What of the depth below this 
fair surface ? Mystery and silence meet that 
query, which only time can answer ; and leav- 
ing it, I will turn the light of description and 
focus it on Alice Fraser. She and Madie are 
as unlike as a gay cantata and a tender idyl. 
Alice had early felt the touch of loneliness 
which every orphaned child must, for however 
tender the care of friends, a child wants its 
mother. I remember how I wanted mine, de- 
spite the fond love which surrounded me. 
But whatever Alice felt during the days of 
childhood and girlhood — so her aunt told me 
— she seldom mentioned her mother, for by 
nature she is reserved, though strong and 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


29 

steadfast in her affections. Reserve marks 
her manner, and it is blended with a dignity 
that wins notice from even slight acquaint- 
ances. Her voice also impels attention. It 
is not that she says anything especially wise 
or brilliant — in fact, what she says is nothing 
compared to what she seems to say. Indeed, 
her influence and power consists, in great 
measure, in this very suggestiveness. She 
possesses also the rare faculty of bringing out 
the brightest and the best in others. Not that 
she is faultless, for her character is like her 
face, where the features are regular without 
being faultlessly, or rather faultily, so. The 
chief charm of her countenance is expres- 
sion ; her eyes are dark and lustrous, and 
shine with the peculiar purity and calmness 
that gives to hazel eyes their persuasive, win- 
ning power. Her complexion is neither fair 
nor brown, but exquisitely smooth and soft. 
Generally she has but little color, but a true 
word, a noble act, a great thought, or a heart- 
beat of love, will in a moment brighten her 
cheeks and kindle a flash in her eyes. The 


30 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


color of her hair, which she wears loosely 
coiled around her shapely head, is a matter of 
dispute among her admirers ; and I hardly 
know whether to call it golden, auburn, or 
chestnut-brown. She is tall, almost too tall, 
though the proportions of her figure are per- 
fect, and she has unusual ease of poise com- 
bined with precision and grace of movement. 
But why dwell on these details when it is not 
form or color that distinguishes Alice Fraser 
so much as a certain nobility and serenity 
which seems to enfold her in an atmosphere 
of indifference to trivial things, and which 
makes one feel that she is not absorbed and 
busy with aught that does not count. I think 
this would be evident, even if her face, all 
but her forehead, was veiled, for there is such 
a calm, peaceful look about her brow. It is a 
curiously suggestive study, this tracing of 
spiritual and mental history in the lines and 
expressions of a face, but if I am to tell you 
of the others of our party I must no longer 
tarry over the description of Alice. And yet 
she has such a hold on my heart, I find it hard 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


31 


to leave her. As I said, she is two years older 
than Madie by actual count, and a dozen 
years in advance of her in thought and pur- 
pose. A conversation we had not more than 
an hour after sailing revealed this. She and 
Madie had been wondering what their time of 
pleasuring,” as Madie called it, would bring, 
when Alice said, But how do we know it 
will be all pleasure ? ” And before Madie had 
time to reply, she turned to me querying, 
“ Do you think we three women will grow 
one-sided, Miss Annie There seems so 

much danger of our estimating people and 
things from one point of view.” That is 
impossible,” Madie exclaimed. ‘‘Why, my 
blue eyes can no more see with your dark 
ones than Miss Annie’s can see through Mr. 
Howland’s spectacles.” 

“ What I mean,” Alice said, “ is not actual 
seeing, so much as the risk of missing the 
friction of numbers ; at school there were a 
variety of girls and teachers, all exercising dif- 
ferent influences, and numbers always seem to 
tend toward expansion of thought and feeling.” 


32 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


As Madie turned away with a merry jest, 
Alice drew her sea-chair close to my side, 
asking : 

Do you not think the influence of num- 
bers leads to larger dimensions of character, 
and a more generous estimate of people and 
surroundings ? ” 

But I will not continue the recital of the 
conversation her question led to ; I only re- 
fer to it because it gives an inlook into her 
character, and because such natural, incidental 
talks are a truer index of our homely com- 
monplace thoughts than more formal discus- 
sions, which call forth opinions on profounder 
subjects. 

How tenderly our Saviour’s life on earth 
enforced this truth. It might almost be 
called the gospel of leSser details.’' Think 
of the delicate touches by which He illumined 
the seemingly insignificant, and made little 
things tell on daily life far more than great 
ones. Hence the command which followed 
the raising of the little maid : Give her to 
eat,” and for Lazarus, ‘‘ Loose the grave- 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


33 


clothes.” Think, too, how at the very hour 
of His deepest anguish He said to John, 
“ Behold thy Mother.” 

And now I will scatter these blessed memo- 
ries by a vigorous mental shake, while I pro- 
ceed to picture Mr. and Mrs. Howland, Edith, 
and the quartette of young men, each of whom 
possesses an individuality as pronounced as 
that which belongs to Alice Fraser and Madie 
Leigh. 


V. 


I AM half ashamed to confess how alert 
and active the impulse is to find fault 
when I think of describing Mrs. Howland. 
The simple truth is, her presence jars me now 
just as it did in my young days, and I feel as 
I did then, a childish desire to tumble the 
ruffles and flounces of her well-fitting gowns 
that are as perfect as Paris artists can make 
them. This is a perfection Mrs. Howland 
can well appreciate, for she is a proficient in 
knowledge of silks, satins, ribbons, laces, and 
jewels. Indeed, her well-trained eye can in a 
minute detect an imitation, and she feels all 
due scorn for the wearer of it, though it is 
not an emotion like that which stirred Rus- 
kin’s righteous soul when he wrote, ‘‘A wom- 
an of feeling would not wear false jewels . . . . 
it is an imposition .... and the wearing them 
is as inexcusable as a lie, and nobody wants 
(34) 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


35 

ornaments in this world, but everybody wants 
integrity.” — Ah, if only they did ! 

But I am criticising, not describing, Mrs. 
Howland. She is a slender, delicate woman, 
and retains much of the prettiness of her 
youth, though she is the type of blonde wont 
to fade early. Being used to society she is 
well versed in current phrases, and familiar 
with the topics discussed in the gay world. 
She has also something of a gift at repartee 
and in one sense is never a dull companion, 
and yet the measured, modulated tones of her 
voice weary me more than an all-day moun- 
tain climb over a rough road. 

It is a relief to turn from her to thoughts 
of Herbert Griffin, or Bertie as we all 
call him. He is twenty-one years old, 
but his physical weakness and a sweet con- 
fidingness of disposition, make him seem 
in many ways like a lad still in his teens. 
And yet Bertie’s heart is so brave and true, 
he is so incapable of evading, and so fearless 
when principles, or the faith dear to him 
as his life, are assailed, I think he will 


36 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

exert a more powerful influence for good than 
either of the other young men. One glance 
at his blue eyes reveals his sweet, child-like 
soul, for they are clear and guileless as Heaven. 
In fact, Bertie, though his figure is so mis- 
shapen, his step so halting and slow, has an 
earnestness of purpose, and an elevation of 
character that rank him among the few 
people one meets — even in a long life — who 
make being good and true seem the sim- 
plest, most natural things in the world ; in 
this he reminds me of Jack and my grand- 
father. 

H any" — Bertie’s brother — is twenty-six years 
old. He is fine-looking and rarely gifted, intel- 
lectually and physically. I knew he was a first- 
rate classical scholar, but I was quite unpre- 
pared for the keen interest he expressed in 
the problems, social, religious, and scientific, 
which are stirring the minds of the earnest 
thinkers of this age of unrest and upheaving 
of traditional dogma and theory. I find he 
reads all sorts of books and is familiar with 
all sorts of opinions ; and he walks fearlessly 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


37 


on the very edge of spiritual and mental prec- 
ipices, speculating and weighing every propo- 
sition before he accepts its conclusions. And 
yet, eager as his mind is, he fails to recognize 
that the only key to all the religious discus- 
^ sions in the world is found in the doctrine of 
the Cross. 

Harry has a peculiar charm of manner, 
though he is quiet and undemonstrative, and 
makes no show of his learning. Indeed the 
only sign of masterfulness I observe in him is 
manifested in his treatment of Bertie. His 
gaze never rests on the deformed lad without 
a certain tenderness softening every line of 
his face. Only strong, masterful men have 
that look — men who can be as gentle as they 
are strong. His eyes are black, the color to 
command ; his mouth and well-formed chin 
tell also of decision of character, and he gives 
me the impression of a man, who in making 
his life-plans, will seek for knowledge through 
the study of men, and their mighty sayings 
and doings,” rather than by following Bertie’s 
preference, which evidently is for ‘^nature 


38 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

with its hush of silent work and nameless 
utterance.” 

Frank Howland was Harry’s college chum, 
and they continue warm friends, though Frank 
is Harry’s inferior physically and mentally. 
Nevertheless he is a strong youth, and has a 
tall, imposing figure, while his features express 
energy, and his dark eyes possess a power of 
revealing his emotions, which make them one 
minute flashing and decided, the next almost 
dreamy. The dreamy look, however, is not 
in harmony with Frank’s character, which is 
very matter-of-fact and free from illusions, 
except in a certain over-estimate of himself, 
which a few years’ contact with the rub and 
friction of life will cure, and his age being only 
twenty-five there is time enough for that. In 
appearance Edith is much like Frank, though 
she is of medium height, and a little too plump 
and robust for fashion’s ideal, but not for 
health and loveliness. Her coloring also is, 
according to Mrs. Howland’s standard, a trifle 
too pronounced, her cheeks too rosy; while 
her large, wide-open eyes are as blue as the 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


39 

sky, and her hair auburn, with a touch of gold 
in some lights. In disposition she is not at 
all like Frank, for she is entirely free from 
self-conceit ; she has, too, a warm heart, en- 
thusiastic nature, and romantic imagination — 
traits which make me tremble for her future, 
for though engaging they are dangerous pos- 
sessions unless accompanied by “ sanctified 
common sense,” and a keener intellect than 
Edith Howland’s. 

I come now to Mr. Forbes. — Some people 
would think him handsome, and he certainly 
would be recognized anywhere as a scholarly 
man. But he does not attract me, and I feel 
a lack of confidence in his entire genuineness ; 
perhaps this is because he misconstrues my 
words, giving them a meaning I did not intend. 
Then, too, he points so many of his remarks 
with an interrogation, which indicates a want 
of steadfastness in his views, and this gives 
something of unrest to his manner, and I fear 
it will make his influence unsettling. 

And now just a word regarding Mr. Howland, 
and then, a truce to description. He impresses 


40 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


me, as he always has, as a gentlemanly, quiet 
man, courteous and well-dressed, but essen- 
tially commonplace ; and yet he gave me a 
thought yesterday which will, I think, underlie 
these journal pages like a foundation-stone. 

We had been talking of names, and the im- 
portance attached to them in olden times, 
when the most ordinary titles were signifi- 
cant because of their twofold meaning. Alice 
maintained this twofoldness still existed, 
though it is seldom defined. My friends call 
me Alice,’' she said ; that is the name by 
which their lips know me, but surely in their 
hearts my real name is the essence of my 
character, and expresses what T am to them.” 
In reply Mr. Howland dwelt on the disclos- 
ures that would follow if this spiritual nomen- 
clature were to find utterance in language. 
Half as though speaking to himself he said. 
Then we would know the name of the God 
we each serve,” and a sad look shone in his 
gray eyes as he turned to me, saying, What 
is the name of your God?” Softly I whis- 
pered, Father.'* 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


41 


After a minute Mr. Howland added, almost 
as though he had not heard my whispered 
word, I suppose every one of our party would 
give a different reply to that question if they 
answered truly.” 

Would they? — that thought so intensifies 
the desire, already in my heart, to help others 
to the knowledge of God’s Fatherhood, for 
the experience of my life has so taught me 
the “ Our Father"' title is the One, and’ only 
Name, by which we can know God in a way 
that will help us to accept as His Will, — 
and hence part of our education, — the broken 
hopes, tear-stained hours of disappointment 
and adverse circumstances which every soul 
encounters at one time or another. How can 
I pass this blessed knowledge on to others? 
It is a question involved in the same difficulty 
that pervades the command, “ Bear ye one 
another’s burdens and so fulfil the law of 
Christ ” — and I can only meet it in the same 
way — and that is by Love. And truly the 
older I grow, and the more I understand my 
own bi3tory, the more I see tl)^t ‘‘ the spirit 


42 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


of wisdom is the spirit of love,” and the true 
way to gain influence over others must be by 
having love toward them — the real love which 
shines in Christina Rossetti’s lines : 

“ O ye who taste that love is sweet. 

Set way-marks for all doubtful feet 
That stumble on in search of it. 

“ Sing notes of love ; that some who hear 
Far off inert may lend an ear. 

Rise up and wonder and draw near. 

“ Lead life of love ; that others who 
Behold your life, may kindle too 
With love and cast their lot with you.** 


VI. 


A VOYAGE fills in life much the same 
place that a rest fills in music. There 
is such a sense of repose in the isolation of the 
wide stretch of sea, unbroken often by even 
so much as the speck of a distant sail. Some- 
times I almost feel as though I were poised be- 
tween this world and the next, and it is hard 
to tell which seems the most real and the 
most near. At least it was thus I felt when 
the gray of night began to steal over the wa- 
ter yesterday, and leaving Alice and Madie 
with the others I found a secluded corner for 
my sea-chair, and wrapping my plaid about 
me and donning my sea-hood, I settled down 
for a quiet think all by myself. I can hardly 
define the sensation being out of sight of land 
gives me. It is half painful and half sublime. 
It makes me realize how large the world is — • 

( 43 ) 


44 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


and that always gives a sense of loneliness — at 
the same time I feel an exultation, that makes 
my heart beat fast with a joyous trembling 
which is akin to the quivering shimmer of the 
moonshine that thrilled the waves last night, 
with a gladness quite unlike their mid-day roll- 
ing and heaving to and fro ; for in that new 
revelation of the ever-changing sea, the broken 
wave-lines no longer hinted of impatience and 
restlessness ; on the contrary they suggested 
the calm of the immeasurable ocean — Jack’s 
grave. I am so glad of this, for I have dreaded 
the sea, fearing the realization that it was his 
tomb, would steal over me with the depress- 
ing influence of a shadow-thought. But where 
I looked for sadness, I found peace ; and my 
fear proves another of the many ways by which 
the Heavenly Father teaches me, that He does 
not leave His children to meet conflict alone, 
and that His promise, *‘Sin shall not have do- 
minion over you,” delivers me from the sin of 
doubting His upholding grace as much as it 
does from any more tangible sin. But like all 
the promises of spiritual victory, it is con- 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN 


45 


ditional, and that “ shall not,'' will only pre- 
vail in proportion to my confidence in it. I 
wonder why I find it hard to keep this in 
mind, when I so well know that part of faith’s 
work is the honoring Christ by expecting from 
Him what He has promised to bestow. 

I am wandering from the quiet I sought that 
I might ponder how I could help my com- 
panions find the true answer to Mr. How- 
land’s question. Somehow it has awakened 
queries in my mind that have been silent for 
years, and they revolve around the always be- 
wildering why of sorrow, sin, and suffering; 
those elements in life which Mr. Forbes and 
Harry Griffin call fate, or the inexorable law 
of Nature, but which I call the bondage we 
let environ our souls when we yield them to 
the supreme control of any mastering emotion, 
whether it be a matter of opinion, prejudice, 
ambition, possession, pleasure, or even intel- 
lect, and sometimes, alas, religion — or more 
correctly, creed. Yes — surely any of these 
emotions can so rule the soul that they be- 
come the Name of its God ! — But did any of 


46 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

them thus control the members of our party? 
— that is what I sought to discover as I sat in 
the twilight, and I began my analysis with 
Mrs. Howland — of whom I speedily disposed, 
for position and leadership in society is so evi- 
dently her god. As for Mr. Howland, I gave 
little heed to his ruling motive in life, neither 
did I linger over thoughts of Bertie, for his 
soul is an open page easy to read, and illu- 
mined with holy meanings. The only bondage 
he knows is bounded by tke limitations of mor- 
tality — his poor, weak, deformed body — but 
that is powerless to stay the wings of his soul 
— and it is a grand thing to feel one’s spiritual 
wings. While Bertie Griffin is thus easy to 
understand, Harry is a problem, and yet it re- 
quires but little penetration to discover that 
he possesses the robust common-sense which 
is apt to belong to a physique like his ; and 
he has a ready wit, and is quick with prompt 
comparisons ; the love of intellectual combat 
also is strong in him, though under perfect 
control in his intercourse with us women, 
whom he treats with an old-time knightly 


DI^IFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN, 


47 


chivalry that is most attractive. It is in mat- 
ters of thought that Harry perplexes me: I 
perceive that he belongs to what is called the 
progressive order” of minds and that accord- 
ing to the diction of a certain class of religion- 
ists, he is a disciple of the so-called *‘new 
theology,” of which reason is the weapon that 
has taken the place of emotion. Whatever 
may be the merits of one over the other, cer- 
tainly Harry’s outlook is generous, while his 
aim is the welfare of mankind. And while he 
is a doubter, he believes in God ; he is also a 
devout student of theistic philosophy ; he ac- 
cepts the historical Christ as a wonderful man, 
and he has a head-knowledge of the Bible 
which leads him to defend it as a book writ- 
ten by spiritual agencies. But here he stops, 
and with no effort to check it admits into his 
mind the controversy involved by making a 
god of Reason. And yet, reason, independ- 
ent of faith, means mystery; and mystery 
Harry resents, as I observed this morning, 
when Bertie said, Mystery must be the con- 
dition of human life, and the only way of be- 


48 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

coming reconciled to it, is by the faith which 
accepts the Atonement, not as framed in dog- 
ma and creed, but in all the fullness of Love 
which manifests it, as * an at-tune-ment, a har- 
monizing of the divine and human.’ ” 

But Harry has no wish to thus accept it, I 
plainly see, and so the chasm between God 
and the human soul, over which Christ, the 
God-man, human yet divine, is the only 
bridge,” yawns beneath him in all its breadth 
and depth, and so subtle is the mental attrac- 
tion he shuts his eyes to the sophistry which 
inculcates good works without faith ; scien- 
tific demonstration without revelation ; and 
the clear-cut dogmatism of a religion which 
forfeits the blessed mystery of the unseen for 
the cold realisms of the seen, and leaves the 
mind with a puzzle in the head and a hunger 
in the heart. 

In many respects Mr. Forbes and Harry 
Griffin take much the same view of religious 
subjects, and yet there is as much differ- 
ence in the real position of the two men as 
there is between the strong, fresh grass of 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


49 


rich meadow-lands and the rank, sickly growth 
of the marsh-swamp. Nevertheless, in a con- 
versation this morning which brought out the 
opinions of the young folk, Stephen Forbes so 
skillfully hid this difference that Alice, telling 
me of their talk, called him an altruistic, be- 
cause he expressed sympathy with the princi- 
ples of what he termed the ‘‘new brother- 
hood,” which numbers in its ranks many of 
the earnest men with whom he had come in 
contact during the years he spent at Oxford. 
But where Alice feels confidence in him I feel 
distrust, for I observe that when he talks of 
Christianity it is “ a Christianity without 
Christ, which is no Christianity.” I also ob- 
serve that while he talks of wide human sym- 
pathies he is entirely unable to illustrate them 
by any personal experience. Neither does he 
turn opportunities for good to their best ac- 
count. But I will not try to define Mr. 
Forbes, for there is something about him that 
baffles me, and I feel as though he would al- 
ways continue an enigma, quite beyond my 
power to solve. It would be difficult to find 


50 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


a sharper contrast than that suggested by the 
spiritual atmosphere which surrounds him 
and Frank Howland, Frank is as open as the 
day, and makes no secret of the fact that his 
outlook, when serious subjects are considered, 
is narrowed by the limitations of what, for 
lack of a better name, I call his traditional 
conscience. His temperament induces this to 
a certain degree, for he is susceptible, and nat- 
urally active ; hence he is influenced by ritual 
and form, and being somewhat obstinate, he 
is inclined to an intolerant adherence and en- 
forcement of the claims of the special creed 
of that branch of the church to which he be- 
longs. This narrowness of spiritual vision 
causes Frank to overlook the fact that the 
seeds of denominationalism exist in the very 
nature of individual character, and their growth 
is inseparable from its free development. 

Edith also clings to creed, but she is not 
self-conceited, and she has a sweet amiability 
of temper which helps her to yield to others. 
She is indolent, too, and inclined to let others 
think for her. Indeed, she maintains that she 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID- OCEAN. 


51 

hates argument, and the endeavor to explain 
** kow and why'' and “ like and dislike." 

As for Alice and Madie I will not attempt 
to define them. When I tried last night I 
found it impossible, for I am constantly mak- 
ing fresh discoveries in their characters. There 
is, too, an element in close companionship 
which renders it well-nigh impossible to formu- 
late character by words. 


VII. 


HOUGH I am trying so hard to live in 



JL the present, I find, after all, the years 
that lie behind me make my world ; and yet 
though the events connected with them are 
so real and dear, the self of that by-gone time 
is almost a stranger to the self of now. But 
I had better not press this thought, for it savors 
of reflections that would soon confuse my 
mental vision by centring thought on self. 
It is humbling to find that the natural tend- 
ency of introspection is thus to foster self- 
consciousness. And how soon that weakens 
and wilts the sweetest and fairest spiritual 
emotions. How speedily, too, the thought of 
what we accomplish and what we are to Christ, 
takes the place of the thought of what He 
does in and through us. And now, having 
given myself warning of danger, I repeat the 
fact, that in many ways my former self is a 


( 52 ) 


DJilFTINGS FROM MID^OCEAN. 


53 


stranger to the self of to-day, and the past 
comes back to me like the echo of the song I 
used to sing, “ So near and yet so far." 

And this is well, for it is not the stories of 
our lives but their issues that make them of 
value ; and I would fain have my by-gone only 
touch this record through its results, and they 
do not require subtle analysis any more than 
one needs to probe the why of the spring 
wind, that if future fruit is to be brought to 
perfection, must needs stir among the blossoms 
till the ground is strewn with white and pink 
petals. 

I wonder if the truth that it is wrong to let 
past sorrow dull present effort to do, and to 
be, is one of the things our Saviour included 
in His command : “ Let the dead bury their 
dead." It is a command which assuredly 
does not involve forgetfulness of our dear de- 
parted, hence I think it must mean simply, 
the enforcement of the duty and privilege of 
taking up the interests of life even when its 
enthusiasm has gone ; and this never hinders 
our keeping our dear ones in loving remem- 


54 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


brance, by reference to their aforetime wishes, 
and by recalling their words and looks, speak- 
ing of them as naturally as we speak of the 
friends from whom we are separated by an 
earthly count of miles. But in all matters 
connected with those gone from earth we 
need to be very gentle in judgment, for peo- 
ple differ in their feelings as much as the 
leaves of trees differ in form and color. And 
while it comforts me to speak freely of Jack, 
grandpapa, and my father, I have friends who 
cannot bear to hear or to mention the names 
of their departed. Then, too, as I learned 
when father died, feelings vary with years 
and circumstances. Thus the important thing 
is to have the soul in harmony with the deep 
inner meaning of sorrow, for then, despite 
time and circumstance, sorrow becomes the 
warp in life’s history on which Divine light 
falls with an illumining that transfigures it 
into sacrifice. And the spirit of sacrifice is 
the revelation of a larger life,” for it leads to 
the heart of the “ life hid in Christ.” One 
does not need to follow the Lord long before 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


55 


learning this, so repeatedly is it enforced in 
the Gospel, where in almost every chapter 
there is some proof that Christ “ as man held 
all that is man’s His own.” And how one 
does learn to live through others, how their 
joys and sorrows become one’s own. This is 
a crown that belongs to middle age, for it 
needs, I think, something of maturity before 
sympathy can be given in all its fullness. In 
youth the heart so shrinks from this proxy 
life, and even now I find it somewhat desolate 
in certain aspects ; and it is still a little hard 
to accept the fact that there is a sense in 
which I must pay for what I give. But it 
must be thus, for the law of spiritual life is 
conflict before victor)", discipline before the 
prize.” Nevertheless, the command which 
bids rejoice with the glad and weep with the 
sorrowful, is like an opening flower-bud, laden 
with the sweetness of an eternal blessing, 
which begins to give forth its fragrance as 
soon as ever one meets the least demand for 
service or sympathy. How truly my own ex- 
perience proves this, and in how many ways 


56 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

the summons to put self aside for the sake of 
others comes as life goes on. Yes, truly, age 
is almost glorified by the added opportunities 
for service it gives, and yet sometimes they 
seem such mere trifles. But whatever the 
seeming, the fact remains, that whether it be 
great or small, an opportunity to serve an- 
other never comes to us without leaving some- 
thing after it has gone. It leaves us either 
stronger or weaker, our sympathies broader 
or narrower, our spiritual vision keener or 
duller.” 

r have strayed from the thought of the 
different comforting and help we need in dif- 
ferent times of trouble ; I return to it to em- 
phasize the dear truth that difference in out- 
ward manifestations of grief and difference in 
the ways by which it finds consolation, does 
not interfere with the unchanging fact, that 
our departed know and understand us, and 
however the world may judge, we need never 
fear the criticism of the dear souls who have 
known themselves the struggles, the weakness, 
and the defeats of this earthly life, but who 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


57 

are now surrounded by the Love atmosphere 
that encompasses that Heavenly Land. 

How the thought that they are looking 
down now into my very heart, their pure 
scrutiny knowing its every feeling and desire, 
makes me long to be more worthy of their 
love, and how near and close it makes the 
sense of their spiritual presence, and what a 
comfort that is ; and yet, when this soothing 
began to whisper in my heart, with it came a 
fear — that it is hard not to feel even now — I 
mean the sense that they must be disappoint- 
ed, as they took their first look from Heaven 
into my soul — for somehow I could not make 
myself realize that they looked away from the 
evil and saw only the struggling good. But 
now when I do in part realize it, it opens a 
glimpse into the transcendent life of the Here- 
after that is beyond the telling by words, and 
which is doubly precious because it is revealed 
through Christ. 

But my work for to-day is not to stand 
thus gazing up to Heaven,” and yet, “ earth 
itself answers to our view of Heaven,” hence 


58 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


no gaze will be so helpful as a Heavenly one 
in smoothing out, and making plain life’s 
story. It will help me, too, to accept its 
meaning as manifested by a light which 

“ Believes because it loves/’ 
and by the faith that finds 

“ Old friends, old scenes will lovelier be 
As more of Heaven in each I see.” 

Faith and Love! I am so glad they are 
hand-in-hand interpreters of life and its mean- 
ing. For faith makes the past so wonderfully 
suggestive, while love lifts the veil that comes 
between me and the Light, whenever I make 
the hopeless effort to fathom, by my own un- 
aided “ petty plumb-line of earthly wisdom, 
the profound abyss of Providence.” 


VIII. 


HE quiet hour to which I have already 



-i- alluded proved rich in inward blessings ; 
it has helped me to remember also the wise 
maxim, that ‘Ht is one thing to grow old 
in the past, and another to grow old in the 
present.” It was one of those rare times that 
come now and then laden with calm, holy im- 
pressions that prompt a longing for commun- 
ion with the Infinite tenderness and Heaven- 
ly Love ; — one of those hours which whisper : 

Look not on thine own loss, but look beyond, 
And take the Cross for glory and for guide.” 

But ** to behold ” and even to touch the Cross 
is unlike the command which bids “ bear it.” 
How will I — how have I stood that test ? 

The reply to that question means more than 
volumes of meditation on the Cross — oh, so 
much more ! 


( 59 ) 


6o DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

The days which followed my night of mus- 
ing, were like dreams of mid-ocean beauty ; the 
water continued calm as a mountain lake, not 
even the fringe of a storm clouded the sky, 
and when we landed the blue over-arched us 
still. 

Our object during this first month of our 
tour is Switzerland, and the pleasure it is 
bringing me, is teaching, that happiness is a 
God-given privilege, whereas I started forth 
in search of it as a duty. Alice and Madie 
are hardly a step behind me in their enjoy- 
ment of the mountain glory surrounding us. 
And yet, we each find a different meaning in 
the highlands and the lowlands, in the deep 
ravines and snow-capped peaks, the swiftly 
flowing rivers leaping into cataracts, and the 
lazy brooklets that go singing on their way. 
The Alpine forests, and the Alpine flowers 
also, are traced with messages which stir dif- 
ferent emotions in our minds. But the lan- 
guage of nature, though so full, is a hieroglyph- 
ic too intangible for me to even try to deci- 
pher ; “ it is a thing to be felt, not under- 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 6l 

stood ; to be loved, not comprehended — a 
music of the eyes, a melody of the heart.” 

Being a woman of the world, and reputed 
wise in her knowledge of love and lovers, 
Mrs. Howland detects danger from the con- 
stant intercourse of our young folk. Her cau- 
tion vexes me, and yet I cannot shut my eyes 
to the truth that even though the second week 
of our mountaineering has not yet ended, it 
has come to be a matter of course that Harry 
Griffin should escort Edith Howland, while 
Bertie, despite his limping step, is the one 
who gathers Alpine roses, starry edelweiss, 
and delicate ferns for Alice, by whose side 
Mr. Forbes takes his place as knight-errant 
without so much as asking, by your leave.” 
As for Madie she and Frank Howland are 
boon companions, and have been for years, 
and I see no cause for fear that my peerless 
Alice will be attracted by Stephen Forbes. 
Why, even to my middle-aged eyes there is 
nothing of youngness about him either in man- 
ner or appearance. And I think I can safely 
continue to find all the comfort I can out of 


62 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

the quiet hills — the everlasting hills — and “ the 
old rolling skies ” with their ever-varying 
aspect of light and shade, without troubling 
for the hearts of my maidens. I am with 
them, too, in all their rambles, and I listen 
with eager interest to the interchange of ideas 
and opinions which make so large a part of 
their bright, intelligent conversation. For 
they are not behind the habit of the age, and 
they reason of science and theology, the nat- 
ural and the supernatural, the seen and the 
unseen, with as much ease and freedom as 
the youth of a former generation were wont 
to play battledore and shuttlecock. 

But however careless and lacking in rever- 
ence the general tone, Bertie and Alice exert 
an uplifting influence, for to them God and 
the soul are so real. Bertie especially does 
this, for he has that “ inward light ” which 
can change shadows into realities, and which 
makes me feel the pity it is that we are any 
of us ever less than our best. Alice says, 
sometimes, as she listens to his earnest words, 
it almost seems as if all her life till now, she 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 63 

had been looking at objects through the sail- 
or’s night-glass, which as it scans the horizon 
inverts objects on the retina: for so many 
things which hitherto have seemed real re- 
solve themselves into shadows, while the 
things that formerly appeared shadows fix 
and condense themselves into eternal realities. 

Just here I will note a conversation that 
serves as an index to many that occur these 
summer days. It took place the morning 
after we arrived at Interlaken, when as I 
sauntered down the promenade under the 
shade of the great walnut-trees, Alice joined 
me. And linking her arm in mine, she re- 
peated Tennyson’s line, 

I am part of all I have seen.” 

As she thus said, we both looked with some- 
thing of awe in our gaze — and more of it 
in our hearts — toward the mountains, and I 
did not wonder Alice added, “ How are we a 
part ? ” 

Certainly this is a question which holds 
manifold meanings. For — how are we a part 


64 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

of smiling fields, sombre forests, and moun- 
tains full of peace, and rivers full of joy? 

It is easy to understand how Madie and 
Edith are like the early summer that sur- 
rounds us, laughing in flowers and breathing 
fragrance on the balmy air ; and how Alice is 
emblemed by the calm of a mountain peak ; 
and Bertie’s simple purity of heart and per- 
suasive influence, by the thrilling joy of the 
steadily flowing river. But what part of the 
scene held a type of my middle-aged self that 
morning, when the summer still lingered near 
the threshold of spring ; when the flowers 
were opening, red, blue, and yellow, amid the 
green leafage ; when the birds were singing 
on every side, the doves cooing, sparrows 
chirping, and larks soaring ; when gay-winged 
insects were floating in the air, and every 
blossom was a chalice of sweet odor? If it 
had been November, or even an October day, 
just before the brown leaves fall, then I might 
have found an emblem for myself — but not 
now, surely not now ! — And where was there 
a suggestion of Mr. Forbes in that fair sun- 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 65 

shiny hour and prospect ? There were strong 
trees, sheltering rocks, and fields of ripening 
grain to emblem Harry and Frank, but they 
offered no type of a man like Stephen Forbes, 
who had shut himself away from the heart of 
nature, and the faith which can behold each 
image from the region of nature transfigured 
in the realm of grace,” for to a devout mind, 

** The hills shall be girt with their flowers like 
laughter. 

And the walks with their sheep shall be white ; 

And the lawns be corn-muffled. Thereafter, 

The hills and the walks and the corn-lands 
Shall raise music — yea, psalms of delight.” 

Yes, I feel sure Mr. Forbes is debarred from 
the recognition of this by his desire to rank 
as one of those prophets of modern science 
who are disposed to show us in the future a 
city of God minus God ; a Paradise minus the 
Tree of Life ; a millennium with education 
to perfect the intellect, and sanitary improve- 
ments to emancipate the body from a long 
catalogue of evils.” But despite this, “ Sor- 
row will not be abolished ; immortality will 


63 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


not be bestowed ; but we shall have perfectly 
drained houses to be wretched in. The news 
of our misfortunes, the tidings that turn the 
hair white and half break the strong man’s 
heart, will be conveyed to us from the ends of 
the earth, by the agency of a telegraphic sys- 
tem without a flaw.” And yet, Mr. Forbes — 
while he made no secret that this dream of 
modern thought was the system he followed — 
was the one who broke the silence that after 
her question held Alice and myself spell- 
bound as we gazed mountainward, — or was it 

Heavenward we looked ? 

He said : “ If you wait you will find. Miss 
Alice, plenty of answers to your query as to 
how you are a .part of all you see.” The 
sound of his voice startled me. I thought we 
were alone, but no, he was there by Alice’s 
side keeping his self-appointed guard. Ber- 
tie, too, had joined us unobserved. Truly 
for a minute I was vexed. There is a persist- 
ency in Stephen Forbes’ attendance on Alice 
that I do not like. Still I was interested to 
hear his reply as she asked : “ What will wait- 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 6 / 

ing bring ? ” Echoes,” he straightway said ; 
‘‘ for they are rolling between the beauty and 
the art and the age of these foreign lands, 
and their language is fruitful of wonders.” 
And he smiled as he added, “ What a harvest 
you will reap.” Were his words earnest or 
half satirical ? I could not tell ; anyway the 
thought they suggested kindled a flash in 
Alice’s mind that brightened the color in her 
cheeks and deepened the light in her dark 
eyes, while it played over her lips like sun- 
shine over a field of waving grain, and she 
smiled as she looked at Mr. Forbes with a 
quick glance of grateful acknowledgment. 
Despite this, it was Bertie — for whom she had 
no smile — who helped her to find the thought’s 
heart of earnest meaning. 

“ I suppose,” he said, “ the chief object of 
beautiful scenes is that they can work into 
ideas, and as we thus use them they become 
ours.” Alice again looked at Mr. Forbes as 
in response to Bertie’s words, she asked : 

“ Is this really their mission ; as we seem 
to forget them do they quietly work in us. 


68 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

and at length out of us in thoughts and forms 
of beauty? It was still Bertie who replied : 
‘*Yes, surely, — the only difference being in 
the capacity of different people to receive, for 
the power to make over is independent of 
people ; that is inherent in the nature of 
beauty. ” 

Mr. Forbes suddenly became annoyed at 
the turn the conversation had taken, and he 
and Alice wandered into the woods in search 
of ferns and brakes, which he said grew in 
plenty just off the roadside. Meanwhile, Ber- 
tie and I sat down on a rustic seat to await 
their return. It was then that Bertie asked : 
“ Do you not think. Miss Annie, that while 
beauty here is a relative term, dependent on 
each one’s receptivity, beauty in Heaven will 
be absolute ? ” After a moment, half as though 
speaking to himself, he murmured : And if 
while on earth relative beauty is so much to 
us, what will the beauty of Heaven be ! ” 


IX. 


J OURNEYING by proxy is so easy to 
accomplish, nowadays, when there is no 
end of all one can enjoy through reading and 
hearing of the pleasures of travel. Pictures 
and photographs also are so multiplied, the 
most habitual stay-at-home can hardly fail to 
be familiar with distant scenes of beauty and 
grandeur, as well as with the master works 
of Art, both in painting and sculpture. And 
yet, even the most vivid and accurate descrip- 
tions, illustrated by maps and views, are no 
more like the real thing than a pressed flower 
is like a fresh one. I am impressed with this 
as I behold mountains and glaciers, lakes and 
ravines, cathedrals and palaces. I am some- 
what humiliated, too, by the thought of the 
many years I have let slip away without mak- 
ing any effort to see this vast, wonderful, and 
beautiful world which God made for our en- 

(69) 


70 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


joyment, for surely the beauty of nature is a 
sign that our Heavenly Father means us to 
take the good of here and now. 

Oddly, the very day I decided to make this 
European tour, I chanced to read a sketch 
in a magazine which brought out this truth 
as clearly as light brings out color. It was a 
simply-told story of an aged French Abb6, 
who explained his presence on the summit of 
a distant mountain-peak by telling how, dur- 
ing a severe illness,, there had come an hour 
when he dreamed that he had bade farewell 
to earth, and was in the Arms of the Bon 
Dieu. And as he rested in their safe enfold- 
ing, an angel approached, asking: “Tell me, 
new-comer to this Heavenly Land, of the beau- 
ties of God’s world — the earth — your afore- 
time home.” But alas, he had nothing to tell, 
for he had been so busy preaching about 
Heaven, he had forgotten to observe earth. 
Sorely he felt this, when the angel said : “ If 
you did not learn earth’s alphabet, how can 
you expect to understand Heaven’s language ?” 
True enough, how could he? For — what is 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


71 


earth but a place in which we are to learn how 
to step Heavenward? Hence that father of 
the Church determined, when health returned, 
that he would no longer overlook the present 
lessons taught by the beauty of this world, 
for the sake of contemplating the promise of 
the greater wonder and beauty of the Future 
world. 

I repeated this sketch to the young folk 
the other day, and as I ended it, Alice pointed 
the moral, by softly quoting the lines : 

** Impatient of the noon-day shall we miss 
The sunrise we shall never see again ? 

And all the tender colors of the dawn, 

The visions of the crimson clouds that hang 

Above us, and the lovely morning star 

That will be vanished when the sun is high ? ” 

But this is not a journal of details, and I 
must not tarry over these summer-day hours. 
I am determined also to avoid descriptions of 
scenery, and yet my pen lingers as though 
fascinated as I recall our ascent of the Jura. 
It was morning, and the sunlight touched the 
high cliffs with a glory which threw the deep, 


72 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


woody valleys into darker shadows, while the 
far-off plains of France — seen between the 
opening of the hills — were veiled in a soft, va- 
pory light. Always to be remembered, also, is 
the sudden turn in the road, which gave us 
our first glimpse of Geneva and its Lake, with 
the background of Alps, peak beyond peak, 
mountains of ice and frozen billows of glaciers, 
with Mount Blanc towering like a guardian 
angel over all. 

Somehow the grandeur of that scene half 
frightened me, and I was glad when with girl- 
like enthusiasm Alice nestled her hand into 
mine. The action suddenly flooded my heart 
with memories of the glad, joyous summer of my 
own girl-life, when, among the high hills of my 
native land, I learned to know the mountains — 
God’s Uplands — where I learned also to feel 
my faith. Remembering that time, and all it 
led to, I could but wonder what new unfoldings 
of life awaited me beyond the Gates of the 
Hills ” now opening. Would they guide to “ a 
path up to the gate of that mountain-summit 
from whence one returns not ” ? 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


n 


It is strange, but as I thus remembered the 
past I understood for the first time that dur- 
ing my early days I saw less with my eyes 

than with my heart. 

Perhaps it is thus I now see ! Perhaps it is 
why I was glad that morning, when the oth- 
ers only saw lichens, Bertie Griffin spied a 
flower high up above ordinary vegetation. — 
Flowers and lichens! They are tender em- 
blems of beauty, innocence, and love ; and 
they read me their parable from up amid the 
snows. — And I think Alice Fraser read it too ! 


X. 


I WONDER, when shadows are so easy to 
understand, why they are gifted with so 
many interpretations. Two children playing 
under my window suggested their significance 
when viewed as life emblems. And these 
suggestions so fit into my present need, for I 
am a good deal bewildered these days by the 
problems that hedge in existence. 

The younger of the children is a little lad 
not more than five or six, while his compan- 
ion is a boy full twelve years old. They are 
brothers, I infer, and evidently English. I 
looked at their shadows clearly reflected on 
the high wall opposite, more than at the chil- 
dren, and I could also see reflected there a 
tiny, rabbit-like form, Rob, the elder, made 
by placing his hands together and folding his 
fingers. Little Regie thought it a wonderful 
picture, and with a child’s eagerness he asked, 
(74) 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


75 


“ How do you do it, Rob ? ” This proved a puz- 
zling question to Rob, for he was too unlearned 
to explain, either to himself or Regie, why his 
hands coming between the sunshine and the 
wall made that impression. Neither did he 
know aught of the fact that, as mortals walk 
the paths of life on which sunlight falls, their 
shadows must always accompany them, in 
lengths varying according to the place they 
have reached in life’s orbit. The significance 
of this and the truth that only at sunrise and 
sunset our shadows touch the horizon never 
seemed to me full of meaning as it does now. 
And equally significant is it that only just at 
noon-time can we tread them under our feet, 
while at the half-way places that mark nine 
in the morning of life’s day and three of 
its afternoon, they are almost our actual 
length. 

Viewing this from a spiritual outlook, how 
it enforces the unity and undertone harmony 
of life ; revealing that as the earth is a perfect 
round, so the experiences of life round out 
into completeness, and age leads back to 


76 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

childhood’s starting-place — Heaven — and that 
means “ God who is our Home.” 

The emblem of noon -tide shadows en- 
hances also the period of middle life, as the 
time when self becomes a stepping-stone to 
higher things, because it is the season of the 
soul’s greatest spiritual and mental vigor, and 
hence the richest in possibilities for usefulness 
and self-mastery. 

But the pathways strewn with opportunities 
were not the ones immediately suggested by 
Rob’s shadow-picture, for the thoughts it first 
stirred in my mind were linked with the bright- 
ness and beauty of the morning ; when sun- 
light and a breeze — and that means a kaleido- 
scope of light and shade — are playing over the 
green grass in such quick succession neither 
the one nor the other lingers long enough to 
leave a shadow. But I will not follow their 
example — for I want to watch for other shadow- 
pictures that somehow I feel will prove inter- 
preters of how I am being taught every hour, 
that despite the much of sorrow that has come 
to me, gladness is also my heritage because I 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


'77 

am God’s child. What an anthem of praise 
the joy-notes of the Bible proclaim ! As I 
count them over they are glad as the ringing 
of Christmas-bells. Hark ! The joy of the 
Lord is strength.” “ Sing, O Heaven, and be 
joyixsX, O earth.” “ My soul shall be joyiwX in 
my God.” “ I will joy in the God of my sal- 
vation.” Joy in God through Christ Jesus.” 
“Yea — my heart greatly rejoiceth.” 

With these words singing like music in my 
soul, I glanced from the window before which 
my writing-table stands. The outlook com- 
prises the deep blue of the Heaven overhead, 
and a background of snowy mountain-peaks, 
while near at hand I catch a glimpse of the 
high-road, and of the open common, where 
the short brown grass resembles moss. 

The first shadow that makes a life-picture 
for me in this scene, is cast by a man slowly 
travelling on toward the village. He looks as 
though he had journeyed far, for his rough 
clothes are weather-stained and worn; he 
seems weary too, and he has passed out of 
the glare of the sunshiny common, into the 


78 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

shade of the trees, and sat down on a grassy 
knoll just off from the road. His attitude 
tells of thoughtfulness, and rough-looking as 
he is, he just reached over into the sunshine 
and gathered a handful of wayside flowers — 
a cluster of bluebells — I saw them yesterday, 
and I lingered to observe the delicate tracery 
of gray their reflection made on the golden 
sunshine, it was like a sigh among smiles. 
And now they are even more tender and 
full of pathos — “ a song without words,” for 
flowers gathered by a toil-worn hand straight- 
way become a poem in suggestion or a picture 
in outline. This is how by simple things God’s 
Book — the world — teaches lessons in Art. 

The next shadow-picture which greets me 
is made by a tiny boy, whose home is in a 
shabby little house that nestles for shelter un- 
der the great trees, much as the birds’ nests 
do up among their branches. He is a quaint 
little object, and yet, neither too forlorn nor 
too insignificant to make a mark on the sun- 
lit common. And his reflection, small as it 
is, touches me more than the man’s shadow. 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


79 

But it is time I gathered the lessons held in 
these emblem shadows. 

The meaning of the dusty roadway, the 
open common and the refreshing shade from 
the over-arching tree-boughs is easy to under- 
stand. Yes — life is often like a dusty road- 
way over which God’s Love broods: 
shadow in the daytime from the heat, and a 
place of refuge, and for a covert from storm 
and from rain.” — “ A shelter, a strong tower ” 
— if we trust in the covert of His wings. — 
Trust ! it is an emotion so simple and yet so 
profound ! It has taken me long to define the 
place it fills in my soul, and even yet I am 
not far beyond the outer-rim of its full bless- 
edness. I do not refer to the natural in- 
stinctive form of trust in the course of nature, 
in man, and in self ; no, what I mean is that 
trust in God which feels Him a Father whose 
Love is absolute, and whose wisdom is per- 
fect to discern, and to do, what is best for me 
despite my inability to see the why of that 
best. And yet, though I have not attained 
this complete trust, I have enough of it to be 


8o DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN, 

able to smile even though it may be through 
tears while I whisper: “Blessed is trust in 
the Lord ; none of them that trust in Him 
shall be left desolate ; He shall deliver them 
and save them because they trust in Him.” 

I know also the foundation of trust is Love, 
and this imparts a new life and meaning to 
the innate knowledge, that “ in nature what 
has been will be,” for it infuses Love into the 
gentle breeze of summer, and into the wild 
storm-winds of winter. Love smiles, too, from 
every growing thing; the least flower as well 
as vine, shrub, tree, and waving grain, all tell 
of it, while the sun, moon, and stars repeat 
the tale which is illustrated by the dawning 
of day after day, and the darkening of night 
after night. Thinking of trust, I find the 
words in which my mind frames it, are musical 
terms, the sureness that perfect Love controls 
the forces of Nature answering to the calm 
deep bass, while my trust in humanity is like 
the midway notes, and trust in self the 
treble. And the work of each is so clearly de- 
fined they make when united a complete har- 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. gl 

mony. Trust in mankind being the outcome 
of Christ’s command, “Love one another,” 
while trust in self is like the wings by which 
a bird soars — it lifts the soul nearer to God 
and magnifies the truth that while our strength 
is His, and given by Him, yet the more we use 
that strength, the more of it He will give us. 

How this intensifies the desire for more earn- 
estness in serving Him ; and how it destroys 
the falsity of the idea that we need do noth- 
ing ourselves because He will act in and by 
us. Nevertheless this is one of those paradox 
truths which it is always somewhat difficult 
to understand, for the ground of our recog- 
nizing it is, after all, centred in the Will — 
“this is the will of God in Christ Jesus, con- 
cerning you,” and so we could neither serve, 
pray, or rejoice “ without a known will of 
God, and it is the humility which recognizes 
the strength external to its own which is the 
source of service, joy, and prayer.” 

Thus real trust is grace in action^ and this 
leads to the command, “ Be ye perfect,” which 
with shame I confess, I am always tempted to 


82 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN, 

skip, because of the immensity of the require- 
ment. And yet, viewing it thus is a mere sur- 
face view, and an isolation and enforcement of a 
single word apart from its actual requirement. 
Our Saviour’s human life assures us of this, 
for the Gospel does not hide the fact that 
there were times when the God-man knew 
what it meant to have the material obscure 
the spiritual, and the knowledge of the test- 
ing of the faith of the Sinless One runs par- 
allel with the sense of sin the sinful feel in 
presence of a command bidding them “ be 
perfect.” It is only because Christ did thus 
sound to the depths of the human heart that 
He became able to be touched with the feeling 
of our weakness. And apart from this, how- 
ever beyond mortal attainment perfection 
may be, obedience to the command is within 
reach, for surely its meaning is summed up 
in the spirit of trust that can pray — Thy will, 
not mine, be done.” — Hence, if I can in truth 
thus pray, my trust in Him will make it pos- 
sible for His will to be done in me, and all 
that concerns me. Out of such a trust comes 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 83 

the joy which reaps the fruit of the seeds 
sown with tears ! — 

It is strange how the outside Christian life 
is moulded from the inner life. But why do 
I call it strange when it is thus a tree grows ? 
I see the beauty of leafage and bough, fruit 
and blossom, but the heart — the life — is within, 
and so it is with all growing things. Only 
cold, lifeless marble is moulded on the surface 
first. 

How I have wandered from the shadow- 
pictures which were in my mind when I began 
to write, and yet I would fain always keep in re- 
membrance the truth shadows teach — and as I 
am a disciple of the doctrine of “ little things,” 
I am always glad Michael Angelo used a shadow 
to teach a lesson greater than any held even 
in his master works of art. I wonder did he 
know the eloquent message that would come 
rolling down the ages, because when at work 
he wore over his forehead, fastened on his art- 
ist’s cap, a lighted candle, in order that no 
shadow of himself might fall upon his work. 
Ah ! if I can only keep the shadow of self 


84 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

from falling on my work, then all is well — but 
when it does thus fall how in a minute i 
spoils the efforts of hours ! 

When I left my journal this morning, I 
went for a walk with Alice and Madie. The 
path leading to the lake crosses the road, 
where on the shady bankside the wayfaring 
man still sat holding the cluster of bluebells. 
He looked up as we passed, and something 
in his glance told me those little flowers whis- 
pered to him, as they did to me, a message of 
God’s Love. — A minute later we met the 
ragged urchin whose shadow was a mere span. 
He was not a stranger either to Alice or my- 
self, and he came running toward us with the 
trustful confidence of a child, and with the 
same trust he put his soiled little hand into 
mine ; for a moment I shrank from the touch 
of those little fingers, and then I looked at 
the child ; poor little lad, he was so evidently 
neglected and unwonted to tenderness just a 
few kind words had won his heart ; and from 
that wan, pitiful, almost baby face that was 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN $5 

uplifted toward me, because he knew a smile 
and not a frown would respond to his glance, 
I looked again at the insignificant, tiny- 
shadow — it made only a patch of gray on the 
sunlit road. — And — What are shadows but 
symbols? — Hence I beheld in that patch of 
gray a type of myself. For I seemed to see 
my poor, sin-marred heart reflected on the 
bright, beautiful, all-pervading Light of the 
Heart of the Sinless One. And then I re- 
membered how, for that brief second, I had held 
my hand back from the boy’s clinging touch ; 
and yet, when I reach my hands — my weak hu- 
man hands, soiled by touch of earth, up toward 
the Christ, there is no turning away on His 
part, it is all ‘ Come ’ — “ Come unto Me.” 

When we returned from our walk Rob and 
Regie were no longer making shadow-pictures, 
but they were in the courtyard, and Regie 
was talking to himself with a child’s uncon- 
sciousness of listeners. I was attracted by 
the sound of his happy laugh ; it was so soft 
and full of an undefined peace, as though his 


86 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

thought was of something beautiful. I could 
not refrain from asking : “ What are you laugh- 
ing at, dear little boy ? ” 

Oh, I’s happy ! Fs thinkin’ of some 
one I loves,” he replied. 

Is it your dear mamma, or papa, or your 
brother ? ” I said — and again he answered : 

Some one higher up ” — and as little Regie 
thus said, the sweet, low laugh gave place to 
a quiet smile. — “ It’s the angels,” Rob ex- 
claimed. But Regie shook his curly head as 
he looked up at the blue sky, and pointing 
toward it gently whispered, “ No, it’s some 
one I loves higher than the angels — it’s Him 

who made the angels.” 

These are only the words of a child who has 
not known a full half decade of earthly years ; 
and yet how tenderly they bade me look up 
to Him, who, as Regie said, “ made the angels 
and who makes, also, the Sunshine and 
Shadow pictures of which life is so full, and 
will be, till we go up There, where shadows flee 
away, and where In the full sunshine of His 
smile ” we shall “ read earth’s mystery right.” 


XI. 


I AM glad Alice Fraser heard little Regie’s 
words of child-like trust, for she has not 
entirely escaped the mist of speculation which 
so frequently environs Harry Griffin’s and Mr. 
Forbes’ conversation, and which has some- 
what darkened the spiritual atmosphere of 
her earnest soul, now, when she is encounter- 
ing the experiences that belong to a launch 
from school-life into the events linked with a 
before unknown contact with people and the 
world ; as well as with unexpected agencies 
in her own heart and mind, and the introduc- 
tion of new ideas, new points of view, and 
new perceptions of God and man. Despite 
this, her faith is so firm she is not afraid of 
discussion, as I realized during a conversation 
she had with Harry Griffin regarding the mi- 
raculous and supernatural. The talk occurred 
as we were returning from a mountain ramble. 

( 87 ) 


gg DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

To keep step with Bertie’s slower tread, Alice, 
Harry, and myself had loitered, which some- 
what interfered with the usual arrangement 
of companionship. But the others were not 
far in advance, and the sounds of laughter and 
conversation, with an echo of happiness in it, 
came back to us, wafted by the evening 
breeze. It was one of those ideal hours that 
only come now and then. The sunset glory 
was fading, but the stars were beginning to 
twinkle overhead, while the high Alps — those 
mysterious mountain-peaks — seemed in the 
softened light merged into the blue Heavens, 
and, somehow, I felt if I could but climb to 
their topmost summit Heaven’s Gate would 
open for me too. But twilight deepened. 
I was in the valley, only the mountain-peaks 
held the unquenched light of the upper life 

and earnest of another day. 

There had been a shower just before sun- 
down which had refreshed the dusty road. 
You know that odor of rain on the dust, and 
how it blends with the sweet fragrance of 
meadows and wayside fields, that give out so 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 89 

lavishly their innermost balm and perfume of 
a June night. As I said, Harry and Alice 
talked of miracles, their possibility and im- 
possibility, and all the time they were encom- 
passed by the great unobserved miracle of Na- 
ture. It was of the raising of the little maid — 
Jairus’ daughter — they spoke. Harry asserted 
that the incident was merely an acted parable, 
illustrated by a simple revival of vitality, that 
had been prostrated by the temporary suspen- 
sion of physical power — a deep trance — a 
species of catalepsy, he called it. “ But what 
object is there in this acted parable?” Alice 
asked, “ unless it serves to enforce the truth 
of Resurrection life?” Harry used in reply 
the arguments familiar to readers and thinkers 
nowadays, but how empty they were before 
Bertie’s reminder that the so-called laws of 
nature,” with the existence of which Harry 
held miracles to be utterly impossible, are 
after all “ only relations of force as they ap- 
pear to our own minds ; and we have no war- 
rant for assuming that the subjective bounda- 
ries of our thoughts are the objective bound- 


90 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


aries of God’s thoughts.” '‘And how do we 
know,” Bertie asked, “ ‘ but that the miracles 
which seem contrary to some few laws of na- 
ture as known to us may be parts of some 
great fixed order of causes unknown to us ? ’ ” 
— As neither Harry nor Alice replied, Bertie 
continued : “ ‘ Besides, scientific men them- 
selves allow that there have been three breaks 
of continuity in the history of the universe — 
the creation of matter, the production of life, 
and the formation of man. — No forces or 
operations such as we see before us can ac- 
count for these phenomena.’” Bertie was 
never aggressive, and very gently he added : 
“‘They may therefore fairly be regarded as 
avenues leading up into the unseen, and as 
laying the foundations upon which all the acts 
of interference with the established order of 
things — all the breaks of continuity recorded 

in Scripture — may be based.’ ” 

As Bertie ceased speaking I felt one of the 
opportunities I so desire had come, when, 
without seeming to preach, I could dwell on 
the power, greater than any human wisdom, 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


91 


the law deeper than any physical law, and 
which from the altitude of Infinity sweeps 
down and enfolds the child-like heart of faith, 
in response to the slightest, most timid touch 
of the hem of His garment of Glory and 
Love. And yet, as I told Harry and Alice, 
“ Reason cannot find Him, His presence can- 
not be proved, but when argument fails, action 
conquers. Do right and you will be right,” I 
urged ; and Alice caught my meaning, for she 
said, I suppose by doing one becomes in a 
certain way a part of the Truth,” and she 
softly added, “ No one can see the Truth even 
in part without loving it.” 


XII. 


I COME now to days and weeks during 
which I left this record unwritten, but in 
telling the story of our onward way, I will re- 
sume my narrative where I wrote the last page, 
and that was at Geneva, where we made a long 
enough stay, for its Lake to become our friend ; 
and I was not the only one to whom the deep 
restful blue of its transparent waters seemed 
like a Heaven below, smiling at the Heaven 
above, for one of life’s golden hours came to 
Alice Fraser those days. And yet, despite 
Mrs. Howland’s warning, my soul was so ab- 
sorbed drinking in the surrounding beauty, I 
did not observe the foreshadowing events 
which, had I noted them, would have hinted 
this to me. But after all — even had I observed 
those signs, could I have prevented Alice from 
loving? — and love — it is such a beautiful thing, 
would I have prevented it even if I could ? — I 
did not think so when she told me of her hap- 
(92) 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


93 


py secret, though I did wish the winner of her 
heart had not been Stephen Forbes. Still, for 
the time, my distrust of him had somewhat 
abated, and being — as far as he was capable — in 
love with Alice, he was at his best those weeks. 
But even then, his epicurean cynicism, his 
cold mocking view of life, repelled me. I dis- 
liked also the way in which he spoke of religion 
in set phrases, and of God’s service as a gorge- 
ous ceremonial that pleased the fancy of wom- 
en, but which was of no importance, — but 
enough of Mr. Forbes for the present. 

Between leaving Geneva and my hearing 
Alice’s story, there stretches a wide expanse of 
country and time, and enjoyment, marked by 
experiences that were beautiful as dreams, and 
which will continue to refresh my mind as 
long as I stay on earth — I think I will re- 
member them in Heaven too, for surely we 
will there remember all the good and beauti- 
ful we have known here. But I must speed 
on with the story of our earthly journey, dur- 
ing which I garnered so many pleasant mem- 
ories. — As I have said, it was the sweet sea- 


94 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


son of the year, and the joy that reigned in 
Nature was echoed in the hearts of the young 
people, while the country through which we 
passed was peculiarly interesting, and in some 
places hallowed ground. We realized this 
before we reached La Tour. Even Harry 
Griffin felt the sacredness of that altar-place 
of Truth, and his step grew firmer, and the 
light in his eyes kindled as he looked toward 
the mountain sides which are dotted with the 
cottages of the Vaudois, and are still many of 
them, homes of the descendants of the brave 
men and women who clung so steadfastly to 
their faith, amid persecution and death. 

I encounter a blank in my memory after 
Geneva and Turin. Then comes Genoa, the 
crescent city, which, as we caught our first 
sight of it, was like the sea, all aglow with the 
soft lingering radiance of sunset. 

Next Milan and its Cathedral. How shall I 
describe it ? — truly, I cannot, it is like a breath 
from the woods, an anthem when no voice is 
singing. It was at Milan, or rather while sail- 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


95 


ing on the waters of Lake Como, that we beheld 
the first of the effulgent Italian sunsets with 
which later on we became so familiar. We 
stayed a full week in that region of loveliness, 
and we halted for a week also, on the shores 
of Lake de Garda. It is a place dearer to me 
than its sister, Lake Maggiore. It is more 
companionable, because smaller, and there is 
such a charm in the sharp contrasts of the 
surrounding scenery. The mountains to the 
north are so dark, broken, and wild, as they 
extend down to the water’s edge, while the 
southern hills are so smiling, beautiful, and 
gay. 

I was soothed by all this, and I was sorry 
when the time came for our departure. And 
yet, it was morning when we started, and our 
way led through a country like a garden for 
beauty. We lingered at Verona for the young 
folk to visit Juliet’s tomb, from which each 
of the girls gathered a memento, that in a cer- 
tain way was an index to their individuality. 
Edith’s was a wild rose, sweet and blushing 
like herself — Madie’s a yellow king-cup, bright 


^6 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN, 

as sunshine. Alice found a little clump of 
grass-blades, for she is always on the watch 
for essentials, or their types. Is she not in the 
world to help others? — That is the thought 
behind so many of her seemingly simple ac- 
tions ; and think of all the comfort and help 
suggested by grass-blades! This desire to 
serve and be of use, is so a part of Alice 
Fraser’s character; Harry Griffin often said 
he believed it bounded her idea of political 
economy. How strange that a cold-hearted 
man like Mr. Forbes should have won the 
love of such a maiden, for her heart is a deep 
well of affection, though she is so reserved in 
manner often it finds expression only by her 
loving and constant care-taking for others. 


XIII. 



SAID I would avoid detail, so I leave 


JL untold the story of our onward way till 
a time when pleasure and wonder were tinged 
with a half-subdued interest, so novel and en- 
chanting is the first impression of Venice. It 
was morning when we arrived, and the suc- 
ceeding hours of the day were rich in visions 
of beauty and art, in which “ luxury of archi- 
tectural grandeur and grace are blended with 
painting and sculpture and many-colored mar- 
bles ; pillars of lapis-lazuli ; columns of Egyp- 
tian porphyry and pavements of mosaic; altars 
of alabaster ascended by steps inlaid with 
agate and jasper.” But I turn from all this 
to the hour when I sat on the balcony of our 
hotel, languidly turning the pages of a worn 
copy of Ruskin’s Stones of Venice,” and 
watching at the same time the new and strange 
scene surrounding me. The others — except 


( 97 ) 


gS DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

Bertie and Alice, who were busy with letters 
— had gone with Mrs. Howland for, as Madie 
said, a gondola voyage in the gloaming.” 
Left thus alone, the poetry and the romance 
of beautiful, sad Venice, and the silence of the 
still city, stole over me almost unconsciously. 
There was something so strange and solemn 
in the hush, I was glad when the vesper-bells 
began to chime their summons to even-song. 
I do not know quite what I had expected to 
feel, but I was unprepared for the pervading 
spirit of decadence ; even amidst the beauty 
I seemed to /eel decay, like a sigh in the 
midst of smiles. I think it was the recogni- 
tion of this that made many sensations rush 
together, and in among them memory linked 
my past with the present. Yes — suddenly I 
saw myself again in the bloom of early life ; 
I seemed to hear Jack’s long-silent voice, and 
I felt a quick heart-leap of gladness, that his 
eyes were satisfied with me — and then — I re- 
membered the present ! — I remembered the 
change the years had wrought — and — it only 
takes a minute to make a rebel against the 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN, 


99 


years. But what right have I to resent their 
work ? Had I not wanted to grow old, wanted 
time to pass after he left me ! 

I was roused from this revery by the low 
murmur of Bertie Griffin’s voice, and what he 
was saying decided Alice to tell without delay 
of her love for Stephen Forbes, and his pro- 
fessed devotion to her. It was a well-chosen 
hour for such a confidence, twilight was near- 
ing, and in the sheltered nook where I sat, 
shadows were already beginning to deepen 
into that half-revealing, half-concealing light 
which makes it easier for a reserved nature 
like hers to tell a heart-story. As she joined 
me, there was a quiet shyness in her manner 
charming beyond words ; and her large eyes 
had a far-out-look and a depth of expression 
I had not seen in them before. She leaned 
her head against the marble column which 
supported the arch that framed her graceful 
figure, and she stood clearly defined against 
the background of shining light that flooded 
from the west in a path of sunset glory down 
the opening of the canal, and which made the 


100 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN 

shadows surrounding me all the more pro- 
nounced. Alice told her story in a voice 
which was soft and low as the rippling of 
waves on a sandy shore, and yet every word 
was clear as the notes of the Angelus bell. I 
felt it was thus her voice would sound if heard 
in prayer, while the look in her eyes was 
like a gaze kindled by Heavenward aspira- 
tions — and yet — oh the pity of it — she spoke 
of a man to whom the Fatherhood of God, 
the Brotherhood of Christ, were as idle 
tales. 

Her words were simple and not over-many. 
I loved her better for her repression. She 
said : ‘‘ Suddenly I found God has made our 
natures such that before they are enriched by 
a mighty love they only half grow and ex- 
pand, but when thus loved — oh. Miss Annie, 
how they bud and blossom ! ” and her face 
was a tender sparkle of a smile as with more 
of sudden action than I had ever seen in her 
she knelt down by my side and rested her 
head on my knee. I laid my hand on her 
bowed head in tender caress, but I said no 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


lOI 


word ; I waited for her to tell little or much 
according to her own sweet will. 

When she spoke she used for the ending of 
her story the metaphor with which she began 
it, saying : “ Do you remember how as we 
ascended the Jura we found mosses clinging 
to hard, dry rocks that did not love them ; 
but they were only mosses, not all “gushing 
out with the joy and filled with the happiness 
the little flowers draw from the warm, passive 
earth that loves them; and so I think our 
hearts are warmed and strengthened in an 
active way by a love that may seem only pas- 
sive." Were these words an unconscious hint 
of a certain coldness Alice had already dis- 
covered on the part of her lover ? I tried to 
banish that thought, but it haunted me as I 
kissed the sweet face lifted to mine in re- 
sponse to my whispered blessing. After that 
she told me just the commonplace details of 
when and where the engagement had taken 
place, — and then — a long silence followed. 

In fact, I had but little to say ; an unmar- 
ried woman is not the one to warn of the pos- 


102 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

sible reefs and breakers which may wreck the 
happiness of wedded life. I am also a firm 
believer in marriage as the highest and best 
life for a woman, even though it may con- 
tain some discordant elements. Nevertheless 
many an unmarried woman has filled as wide 
a sphere of usefulness; and always the un- 
married must be the ones who know the most 
of tranquil happiness. .Still, I repeat, I believe 
in marriage, — or love, with marriage looked 
forward to, — as necessary to the full rounding 
out of womanly character, and I have always 
been thankful even though it was so sadly 
brief in earthly continuance, that I had the 
beautiful, blessed experience of knowing the 
love of a true man’s soul. I am thankful, too. 
Jack and I made the plans we did for life and 
work together ; for they gave me a broader 
outlook than I could have gained alone, and 
they helped me to be more fearless in thought, 
and that has led to a firmer grasp of Truth, 
which always helps one to be, I think, less hy- 
percritical, and less hypocritical, too ! 

An experience like mine, which has no un- 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


103 


real imagining element in it, places a woman 
also, so on an equal footing with other women 
who are happy in wedded life. Yes — I know 
something of what such happiness means, and 
this gives me an added power of sympathy not 
only with joy, but with sorrow. Sometimes 
when it enables me to come close to breaking 
hearts, I almost thank God for the agony and 
wrench of separation which I have known, 
just because that knowledge helps me to com- 
fort others. But — it is only an almost ” 
thank God to which I attain — I never am 

really quite thankful for that grief But 

with no almost I can give thanks for the joy 
of my happy time — oh ! I am so grateful for, 
and so glad I had those months — and for their 
sequel I can wait — and I think— yes--^I know 
the “ afterward ’’ will compensate for the 
present. — Yet — ^the waiting is very lonely — 
very desolate — days sometimes just creep ; 
time sometimes flies on wings so clipped, 
verily they seem broken and unable to soar. 
But hard as it is, the parting, caused by what 
we call death, is like a peaceful song, when 


104 driftings from mid-ocean. 

contrasted with the bitter moan of an es- 
trangement caused by what is termed a liv- 
ing sorrow.” 

As I listened to Alice the fear of such an 
estrangement stole into my heart like a sad 
foreboding. I wondered, too, how she would 
endure the fret and friction of daily life, when 
it touched her through a second self, as it 
were, her eyes, ears, hands, and heart feeling 
for another, and sensitive to their passing 
emotions, as a wind-flower to the lightest 
breeze of spring. But I had little time to 
forecast Alice’s future, for when she left me 
Bertie Griflin took her place, and the story 
he had to tell interested me tenderly. It is 
singular how experiences freighted with life- 
lasting memories come thus, without preface, 
and in the midst of quite ordinary circum- 
stances. It was natural that the day of our 
arrival at Venice I was tired, and chose to sit 
alone on the balcony overhanging the canal, 
watching in the deepening twilight the long 
line of palaces fade into formless masses of 
architecture, while gondolas glided to- and fro, 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


105 


their gleaming lights reflected on the water. 
And yet, how much that hour brought me ! 
For when we love we live in the joy and sor- 
row of our dear ones. And I love Alice Fraser 
and Bertie Griffin — and Alice told me of a joy 
and Bertie of a sorrow. 


XIV. 


B ertie greeted me by asking: Is the 
law inevitable that if you do a foolish 
thing you must suffer for it, whatever your 
motive ? ” 

I hesitated before answering, for I knew 
beneath the query was the earnestness that 
marks so many of Bertie’s words. There was 
also a note in his voice which made me feel 
some unusual experience had disturbed the 
wonted tranquillity of his soul, and I dreaded 
trouble for him. In fact, I always feel he 
needs no other discipline than that which he 
constantly endures through the limitations 
imposed by his physical affliction. He was 
only two years old when the accident occurred 
which left him, not only with a deformed 
body, but a semi-invalid for life. And to me 
such a trial so bravely endured seemed enough 

to perfect and develop character. But I 
(io6) 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


107 


was mistaken, and unmindful of the truth, 
that while the trial caused by physical weak- 
ness may have accomplished its appointed 
work and perfected the grace of submission, 
the development of other virtues may demand 
a different discipline, and the Heavenly Father 
will send it as required. 

As is apt to be the case when deformity of 
the spine is the result of an injury received in 
early childhood, Bertie’s face while deeply 
melancholy is most sweet in expression, and 
every feature tells of strength of will and 
earnestness of purpose. He has been carefully 
educated, and that means not over-educated 
for his intellect, and by nature he is singularly 
unselfish ; thus it happens even those who 
know him most intimately have come to feel 
that he is, in a certain way, indifferent to the 
fact that he is set apart from many of the 
hopes and pleasures of young men of his age, 
culture, and social position. And I confess I 
was unprepared for his story, and the an- 
nouncement that he loved Alice Fraser. 
The strength of his devotion had deter- 


I08 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

mined him to conceal it from Alice. But 
silence became impossible when he discov- 
ered her affection for a man unworthy as 
Stephen Forbes. But he only meant to warn 
her, he did not intend to plead his own love ; 
and yet, before he fully considered where that 
warning was leading, it was mingled with a 
declaration of his own feelings. 

The warning Alice straightway resented, 
and so hot was her indignation she paid no 
heed to Bertie’s mention of himself, and I 
must think she only half understood his 
broken words. I can only thus account for her 
indifference, for Alice has a tender heart ; 
I never knew her to wilfully hurt even an 
insect. 

Bertie told me his story briefly ; as he ended 
he said, “ I would give my life to make her hap- 
py, and if Stephen Forbes could, or would do 
it, I would not begrudge him the joy — but he 
will break her heart.” — And Herbert Griffin 
sobbed like a hurt child, though he is brave 
as a lion, and had never been known to flinch 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


109 


at bodily pain however keen. By those sobs, 
I knew the strength of the new trial that has 
come to test his courage and faith, and to 
more highly perfect his already fine character 
by proving what manner of man he is. Why 
do I grieve over this, when such crucial test- 
ing never destroys anything truly noble, any 
more than it crushes out nature ? I think as 
a middle-aged comforter I am to recognize 
this, and then to help Bertie to draw all the 
strength possible from it, and the truth linked 
with it, which is, that God does not require us 
in our sorrow to be anything but our natural 
selves. The Bible calls pain an evil ; it may 
be sent by God to do us good, but no soph- 
istry can make the heart-ache in itself a joy. 
We cannot rejoice in tribulation itself, though 
we may rejoice in God through tribulation.’* 

As was to be expected, in a nature like 
Bertie’s, before he left me he had regained his 
outward composure ; nevertheless there was a 
heart-breaking note of sadness in his voice as 
he -said : Never mind. Miss Annie, there 


no 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


must always be joys other men have that will 
be denied me — but — patience/’ and his dear 
eyes kindled with Heaven-born light as he re- 
peated the staff-like lines by which Robert 
Browning has helped so many brave souls 
over rough places : 

“ All we have willed or hoped or dreamed of good, 
shall exist ; 

Not its semblance, but itself. 


The high that proved too high, the heroic for earth 
too hard, 

The passion that left the ground to lose itself in the 
sky 

Are music sent up to God by the lover and the bard ; 

Enough that He heard it once ; we shall hear it by 
and by. 

And what is our failure but a triumph’s evidence 

For the fullness of the days? 


Why rushed the discord in, but that harmony should 
be prized ? 

Sorrow is hard to bear, and doubt is slow to clear. 

Each sufferer says his say, his scheme of the weal 
and the woe ; 

But God has a few of us whom He whispers in the 
ear.” 

The enthusiasm which thrilled in Bertie’s 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. m 

voice, and glowed in his beaming countenance 
as he ceased speaking, told me he had laid 
hold of the enthusiasm of life which is 
awakened by a profound sense of God and 
duty, and is no sudden impulse. 

As he bade me good-night he said : Re- 
member this experience will help me to re- 
gard this world not as Home, but only as a 
pathway toward Honied — And though twi- 
light had deepened into darkness, while 
he had been talking, I knew the sun was 
shining in Bertie’s soul again, for he added. 
And after all, what is time here but the 
shadow cast by eternity! — And happiness, 
what a strange thing it is 1 It draws thoughts 
so away from self that we are hardly conscious 
that we have had it till it has passed.” After 
a minute he added : “ The memory of happi- 
ness I suppose will be something akin to the 
pleasure which a letter gives, as it grows more 
and more precious the farther off from home 
and friends one may be ; so this summer, and 
the gladness it has held, will serve to pick up 
fragrance and flowers on its long journey 


1 12 DRIFTINGS FROM MIDDCEAN. 

through the future years of my life.” — “ Think 
of this, and do not feel too sorry for me, Miss 
Annie,” he half whispered, for when memory 
brings it back, it will come like a child from a 
walk through green meadows, and by quiet 
water-brooks, and it will reflect a glow that 
will cheer even lonely hours.” 


XV. 


A fter hearing Alice and Bertie’s stories, 
my enjoyment of our trip began to cloud. 
My regret over Alice’s engagement is greatly 
increased by Harry Griffin’s and Mr. Howland’s 
disapproval. ** Stephen Forbes’ cold self-asser- 
tion will kill the life out of her in a year,” Harry 
declared, and I could not say “No” to his 
fear, for I too think Mr. Forbes a selfish man 
and “married to his habit of self-pleasing.” 
Meanwhile, Bertie is keenly alive to the blight- 
ing influence he will exert over Alice’s sensi- 
tive nature and delicate conscience. Bertie 
feels she can have neither mental nor spiritual 
sympathy with a man who does not believe in 
God, and who is indifferent to the destruction 
of faith and hope in the soul. “ If intellectu- 
al difference is apt to cause wounds between 
those who love, how much deeper they will 
be when there is an unintellectual sentiment 
behind them,” he said. 

(1 13) 


1 14 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCFAN. 

He did not mean that there was any lack of 
intellectual power on the part of Alice, it was 
simply the matter of belief and unbelief to 
which he referred. Mr. Howland’s displeas- 
ure centred on the concealment of the en- 
gagement even for a few weeks — he refuses to 
excuse Mr. Forbes, and he is inclined to blame 
Alice. But I do not, for to a woman, and es- 
pecially to a reserved nature, there is always a 
certain sweetness in keeping a happy secret, 
as a joy, with which no one can interfere, even 
by congratulations. Then, too, when Alice 
told me, she was as open-hearted and trans- 
parent as a child. Loyalty to her determines 
me to try to view Mr. Forbes from her stand- 
^ point ; and certainly, regarded in a merely in- 
tellectual way, he is an exceedingly interest- 
ing man. I never hear him talk on subjects 
connected with philosophy, language, art, or 
history without feeling this. And yet, in the 
midst of his most glowing descriptions of Poet 
or Painter, Art or Nature, the thought will 
come to me, that all this is powerless to 
smooth the rough places one must encounter 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


II5 

in life. For — how little language amounts to 
after all ! And how soon all languages will be 
one ; and philosophy, at best, is a narrow 
boundary, for it does not include religion. 

I said this to Bertie Griffin, and he replied, 
with a smile : “ But religion includes philoso- 
phy.” Still he did not say “ Nay,” when I an- 
swered, even if it did, I was content to stay in 
the green pastures of my present simple faith, 
without seeking to turn back to test my skill 
in climbing into them over the high wall — 
philosophy. The look of earnestness increased 
on his expressive face as I added : “ While 
thus content for myself I could but remind 
him, Harry and Frank of the glorious field 
opened to some strong man to show those 
who say, ‘ Here is the boundary, philosophy 
can go no farther, and therefore not men,’ 
that over and beyond is still another region.” 

Madie heard the words — she was just step- 
ping with easy grace into the gondola in which 
we were starting, to enjoy what she called 
“the poetry of motion.” — Half impatiently 
she said : “ Dear Miss Annie, why perplex 


Il6 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

our minds with such subjects. What do they 
amount to, it is all over soon.” 

I knew by that all Madie meant life and its 
earnest purpose — and truly her words belong 
to a sluggard and a dreamer as much as to a 
laborer. I remembered them as I looked at a 
photograph Mr. Howland has of the statue of 
David with his sling in the Villa Borghese at 
Rome. It so expresses the feeling I wanted 
to rouse in Harry and Frank — Bertie has it 
without any influence of mine — for his soul 
possesses the self-reliance as well as depend- 
ence on God which are the traits so remark- 
ably brought out in this statue. I refer to 
the one in which David looks so determined 
to do his part, and trust God for the result. 
There is something very grand in it. It gives 
also such a true idea, for surely God does not 
want us to feel He does everything, and all 
we have to do is to trust ; surely the strength 
and courage that killed Goliath was David’s 
own strength and courage — his — because God 
offered it to him when he needed and asked for 
it, and he used it, thus making it his own. It 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


II7 


is so easy to confuse liberty and independence 
in the spiritual life, and yet I so want to make 
the difference between them plain to my young 
companions. Robertson defines it by saying 
that “ liberty bows to the I ought ; independ- 
ence to the law I will y 

I was interrupted just here, and the thought 
that now fills my mind is. Why has Madie 
Leigh suddenly appeared almost in a new char- 
acter during our stay in Venice? We have all 
yielded to her leadership from the hour of our 
arrival, for Venice has been Madie’s dream of 
delight from the day we sailed from America 
till we entered the square of St. Mark’s. And 
it is not her queenship or her enjoyment that 
disturbs me, but the contradictory spirit which 
is unlike the bright, sunny temper which 
has made her sweet and winsome. I can 
hardly define the change, it is so subtle and 
yet so evident. She revels in the surround- 
ing beauty, but she is petulant with the 
objects which disappoint her. She complains 
over the poverty of the people, and almost at 
the same moment expresses delight at their 


Il8 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN 

picturesqueness; she frets over the odors of 
the narrow canals at low tide, and yet is eager 
to glide over their waters ; she will have noth- 
ing to do with the dismal, black gondolas, 
with their little dusky hoods and room enough 
for but two, nevertheless she is not satisfied 
with the most gaily decorated of the open 
ones; she even calls Mrs. Howland’s special 
favorite — a gondola with steel-crested prow 
and decked with bright ribbons — “ a tawdry 
thing that suggests some long faded beauty 
striving to hide the traces of time and change 
behind the glitter of fluttering drapery.” All 
this variety gives a piquant charm to Madie’s 
fresh young beauty — remember, her age is 
only eighteen — but what does it mean ? That 
she is swayed by moods, I feel sure ; for this 
morning, when I came upon her suddenly, her 
eyes were full of tears, and tears to a nature 
like hers mean moods rather than real trial. 

Mr. Howland, though he seems so unob- 
serving, has given me a hint of Madie’s 
trouble ; for the other day, when she was un- 
usually full of airy whims and freaks of petu- 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN, 


II9 

lant wilfulness, he said, “ Poor little birdling, 
she is singing to an indifferent listener,” and 
his gaze rested on Harry, who was talking 
with Edith. 

Can it be that I am to encounter another 
love- tale here in Venice? — And is it possible 
that Madie really cares for Harry Griffin? 
The mere suggestion of this idea so disturbed 
me, I tried to banish it by asking Bertie to go 
with me for a farewell visit to St. Mark’s. I 
never can forget that visit. It was a day con- 
secrated by the Roman Catholics to the mem- 
ory of the dead, and the vast church was 
hung with black, the flowers all removed. 
Masses were being said at the principal altars, 
and as we entered we met crowds of people 
all looking solemn and devout. Even strong 
men were weeping, and women without num- 
ber. Somehow the scene laid hold of me like 
a powerful hand-clasp, and in a moment my 
heart was in sympathy with those mourners — 
for I know the meaning of sorrow — and I, too, 
whispered a prayer for my departed, for I 
believe it is 


120 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


“ thus we meet, 

And even thus we commune ! Spirits freed 
And spirits fettered mingle, nor have need 
To seek a common atmosphere, the air 
Is meet for either in this olden, sweet 
Primeval breathing of man’s spirit — Prayer ! ' 


XVL 



ENICE is the very place to bring out 


V Mr. Forbes’ individuality, affording such 
rare opportunities for his anatomizing mind, 
which is always on the alert for objects to re- 
view and pick to pieces. I confided to Harry 
Griffin my fear that he would disenchant and 
dull the enthusiasm of our stay. 

“ No, he cannot do that,” Harry replied ; 
“ ^ for where on the whole earth are stones 
eloquent as in Venice? Where is the crea- 
tion of human hands that can be compared 
with this wondrous marble flower floating 
upon the surface of the sea?’ ” 

But, despite the truth of Harry’s quotation, 
Stephen Forbes did chill the ardor of Alice’s 
pleasure. I speedily detected this, though she 
endeavored to hide it behind a smile — that 
most transparent mask a high-toned, truth- 
loving woman can wear. Dear Alice, she is 
nobly lovely these days. This morning, at 


(I2I) 


122 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

the Manfrini Palace, I noticed how deeply 
impressed Mr. Forbes seemed by her gracious, 
sweet presence. I wonder what emotion 
stirred his heart as he looked at her? He 
has a well-trained eye, and is quick to admire 
a beautiful woman with much the same keen- 
ness of appreciation with which he estimates 
the merits of a work of art. He turned from 
a long study of a St. Cecilia, by Carlo Dolci, 
to watch Alice. She was unconscious of his 
gaze. She stood a little apart, absorbed in con- 
templation of the lifeless beauty of an Iphige- 
niaby Correggio. I suppose in the history of 
every woman there is a time when her charm, 
whatever it may be, is at its height, and this 
was one of those supreme minutes in Alice 
Fraser’s life. I think her beauty had never 
been so complete, and it was not so much 
beauty of form and countenance as of mind 
and soul. And she has plighted her troth to 
Stephen Forbes! Oh, the sting that knowl- 
edge gives me, and his voice made it all the 
sharper; for even in Alice’s presence, and 
surrounded as we were by these marvellous pic- 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


123 


tures, many of which represented human suffer- 
ing and intense emotion — as the noblest works 
of art are wont to do— he was ready to turn from 
Alice to jest with Madie, and to enter into con- 
versation with Mrs. Howland, and it abounded 
in sharp epigram and polite satire, which called 
forth laughter that echoed with a note of irony. 
And yet — Alice Fraser loves him! Alice, with 
her earnest reverence for all beautiful, sacred 
things; her tender heart; her guileless soul ; 
truly, love among mortals may well be called 
a mystery. 

In this instance the mystery consists in the 
wonder that Alice is not repelled by Mr. 
Forbes, not in the fact that she attracts him, 
that is perfectly natural ; he is prone to analyze ; 
half the zest of life consists for him in subtle 
investigations of men and things. And she is 
like a new discovery, and while the freshness 
lasts he is eager to observe every emotion that 
sways her sweet heart, and every revelation of 
her clear, well-regulated mind. She has also 
the rare gift of not speaking over-much, and 
this gives added zest to her words ; and she 


124 driftings from mid-ocean. 

is able to speak with easy fluency, and a smile 
is wont to hover about her delicate mouth, 
while in manner she is as little conscious as a 
girl can be. Even when the color brightens 
her cheeks and flushes her fair brow, it is not 
from self-consciousness or confusion, but sim- 
ply earnest feeling. In view of all this, as I 
said, it is easy to understand Mr. Forbes’ ad- 
miration ; but I cannot so readily understand 
why he seems often more in sympathy with 
Madie, and why frequently during these last 
weeks, even when Alice has looked grave, he 
has encouraged Madie’s petulant fault-finding 
and half-bitter disparagement of the art and 
beauty with which the city abounds, till his 
influence more than once has made painting 
and sculpture voiceless to her; though, nat- 
urally, Madie is fond of color and form, and 
when we came to Venice she was eager to in- 
terpret the allegorical legends and historical 
subjects wrought in marble, and portrayed by 
color, with which the gorgeous palaces and 
churches are so full. But now, even Titian’s 
“ Assumption,” before which Alice and Edith 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 125 

stand with reverent awe, blended with won- 
dering delight, Madie calls “ tiresome.” In- 
deed, she maintains looking at pictures is too 
exhausting to be ranked as a pleasure, de- 
manding as it does the re-adjusting the faculty 
both of intellectual and perceptive attention 
to a new focus.” Hence she refused to ac- 
company us to the Barberigo Palace, saying 
she felt no interest in seeing the room in 
which a man ninety-nine years old painted,” 
even though that man was Titian ! After this 
refusal, Madie turned from Alice with a shrug 
of her graceful shoulders, as significant of 
weariness, as if she had been a French girl 
rather than the daughter of a well-ordered 
New England home. No wonder I am puzzled 
by the change in her. — “ I am tired of admir- 
ing,” she said ; my heart is tired of feeling,” 
and for a second she glanced toward Harry 
Griffin, but he paid no heed either to the 
words or the glance. What influence swayed 
her? 

That to Mr. Forbes Venice is the Venice 
of the decadence, its ruling spirit the spirit of 


126 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

decay, causes me no regret — but I am sorry 
to have Madie see its beauty clouded by the 
mist of her own conflicting moods, for they 
veil for her the interest and wonder of this 
sea city. I am glad Alice has quietly garnered 
memories that all her life long will gleam with 
the inner light history holds for a true soul, 
and which will vibrate with heart-beats of re- 
membered poetry and beauty. Still there will 
be sorrowful memories linked with Venice, for 
so often Mr. Forbes has failed and disappointed 
her by his lack of sympathy. When I see 
them together, I realize that Alice is as far 
removed from her natural circle as a rose blos- 
soming amid frost and snow, or a robin trying 
to sing in mid-winter when its song is the 
breath of spring. Sometimes I feel, too, a 
great dread, as though Alice was in dan- 
ger of losing her own sweet individuality, 
just as she would be in danger of losing the 
dexterity of her right hand if it were caught 
in some crushing machinery. But when I 
feel thus depressed, hope comes to soothe me ; 
and how much hope strengthens us all ! 


XVII. 



GAIN I come to a place in this diary 


where for lack of space and time I 
must make use of the bridge of silence, and 
yet everywhere there is something to remem- 
ber. Nevertheless my notes vary in interest, 
for places are like people, and the impression 
they make on the mind is equally difficult to 
explain. This is markedly so in my record of 
our journey on to Florence. Bologna, with 
what it may contain of the beautiful and in- 
teresting, suggests not a thought, while the 
mere name Ferrara makes my heart beat fast, 
as I recall Tasso’s prison and its gloomy cell. 
But I will not enumerate places, for they are 
nothing when compared with the pictures 
Nature unfolded. I am glad we were encom- 
passed by the scenery of the Apennines rather 
than that of the Alps. For the Alps have an 


128 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

influence over me something like that exerted 
by the constant surprises of spring, while the 
Apennines are soothing like the repose that 
comes when spring is merged in summer. 
And being somewhat care-burdened for both 
Alice and Madie I need the calming of softer 
beauty, and the more luxuriant surroundings, 
of this country which is like a lovely poem ; 
and each day I turn a fresh page, sometimes 
to find sight illustrated by sound, — I refer to 
the indefinable music which is Nature’s way 
of talking, by rustling leaves, murmuring 
winds and rippling brooklets blended with the 
undertone melody of insect life. There is, 
too, the more intangible hush by which the 
ending day holds communion with twilight ; 
all this, I repeat, is like remembered music, 
possessing the rhythm of harmony, in which 
music excels all other arts, while it is also the 
most romantic and poetic. I suppose this is 
the secret of its subtle power to evoke mental 
pictures, and yet how careless memory is in 
her grasp of music ; how she lets it slip away 
— I wonder what becomes of the forgotten 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN 


129 


melodies? Mrs. Howland laughed at my 
question, though she does not deny that sound 
helps us to secure memories, and that nature 
is replete with the twofold power of impress- 
ing beauty on the soul by the combination of 
sight with sound. 

Thus these dark pine forests, with their 
openings into still more sombre glimpses of 
ravines, and woody glades, run parallel with 
the emotions stirred by thunder rolling among 
the hills, while the song of water-brooks, and 
rustling of leaves, and wind in the tree-tops, 
are the counterpart of the scene which stretch- 
ed before us as by a sudden turn in the road 
we emerged from the forest, and beheld soft, 
sunny valleys, and peaceful hamlets. There 
were vine-clad eminences and rich pastures 
too, with here and there a convent half hid- 
den by groves of cypress and cedar. 

But the glory of the hours — which were so 
poem-like in their bountiful combining of 
beauty and brightness, gloom and mystery — 
was the one which gave from the summit of 
a lofty height a backward look over the whole 


130 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN, 

of Lombardy, which lay spread before us, a 
mystical landscape, where all was too indis- 
tinct for detail, at the same time brilliant and 
glowing with light that was intensified by vast 
impenetrable shadows. To the north like a 
range of fleecy clouds we could trace the sky- 
line of the Alps, while far away to the east- 
ward, a pale blue expanse of color marked 
the distant glimmer of the waters of the 
Adriatic. 

It was twilight when we reached the inn 
where we were to tarry for the night. Bertie 
was so tired I began to realize the slight in- 
disposition which had made him more than 
half an invalid for several days, held grave 
forebodement of serious illness. And yet he 
entered with even more than his wonted earn- 
estness into the subjects that came up later 
in the evening for discussion. He spoke of 
himself also with a freedom that is not usual, 
for Bertie has a firm conviction that the best 
evidence of a Christian life is within, and that 
if it is there, it will find its way out, not so 
much by religious expressions, as by religious 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN 


I3I 

living. And in ruling his life he makes it a 
principle not to talk about God’s dealing 
with his soul, till he has thought about it, 
and got the good out of it, and even then 
he feels mere conversation will have no in- 
fluence unless the life speaks through the 
words ; he has also a wholesome dread of the 
sentimental in religion. I recall a talk he had 
with Alice, regarding the influence a Christian 
should exert over the young, that defines his 
views as clearly as the leaves and twigs of a 
tree-top are outlined against the blue sky. 

Lead them into their own hearts,” he said, 
‘‘ introduce Christian principles there — per- 
suade them to take Christ Himself in, and 
then, when older, and skepticism comes armed 
with the weak fabric of empty thinking, it 
finds a living spirit within.” It was this living 
spirit which shone in his words, as we sat on 
the broad balcony of the wayside inn watching 
the afterglow of the Italian sunset, in which 
deep purple, shadowy violet, and golden tints 
blended, in a delicious harmony of color. 


XVIII. 


T was of the Hereafter we talked — Eternal 



-i- hope and Eternal despair — the subject 
which will long be remembered by all classes 
as the topic of discussion in this and the by- 
gone decade. It was a somewhat strange 
topic when, save for Mr. and Mrs. Howland 
and myself, the members of our party were 
in the spring-time of life. Yet — why do I 
call it strange, when thought is like an echo, 
and there are wont thus to be subjects which 
at certain times control it. Periods, which 
seem set apart for especial discussion and up- 
setting of long - accepted opinions. While 
such periods centre among the earnest and 
more thoughtful, ripples from them reach 
even to the outer boundaries where the gay 
and careless congregate. History enforces 
this, and turning its pages we find thought 
epochs have their seasons as truly as spring 


(132) 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN, 


133 


and autumn their equinoctial storms. What 
an interesting study it would be to follow this 
chain of thought through the centuries ; no- 
ting how each has been marked by its own 
special subject, from the dawning of Christi- 
anity down to the present time. Think, also, 
how all culminate in the Christian theology 
which finds “ in union with the Son of God 
we share His relations to the Father, and His 
eternal perfections and blessedness.’' 

But I have wandered from Bertie and the 
hour when he so made us feel the repose of 
his spirit, which had nothing of inaction about 
it, for the peace encompassing him is full of 
power, and it makes itself felt as the outcome 
of many an experimental lesson and disap- 
pointment which have tended, because rightly 
used, to the enlargement of “ the spiritual in- 
sight able to discover in the Present the seeds 
of the Future, and in the Seen the symbols 
of the Unseen.” 

As 1 said, it was of the blessed Unseen Ber- 
tie spoke, and it suggested the after-blessed- 
ness of Heavenly progress — the going on from 


134 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

“ height to height.’' And as unconsciously he 
gave us a clear image of what he was in spirit, 
he impressed also the truth that weak bodies 
are apt to make child-like souls, till even the 
natural eye looks more steadily up and the 
spiritual more steadily out. How unlike such 
a revelation of child-likeness is to childish- 
ness ! And yet often we mistake the one 
for the other, and in putting away childish 
things, as we think, part with the wrong ele- 
ments, losing the heavenly insight, keeping 
the earthly darkness.” 

Later the conversation drifted on to God’s 
recognition of our physical as well as our 
spiritual needs, and again Bertie was the chief 
speaker, and the one who brought out the 
truth that “ the life of man is a unity, even 
though it touches the earth on one side and 
God on the other.” 

It was Harry who asked, “ Did I think the 
development of Christian morality would suf- 
fer from the present devotion of Christian 
thought and energy to speculations on the 
RP.ture of God in His relations to mankind ? ” 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


135 


^ Do you not think more would be done for 
morals if men cared less for theology?”’ he 
added. Before I had time to reply, Mr. 
Forbes in his cold, critical voice was declaring 
the absurdity of expecting that truths far be- 
yond the gra^p of the masses can influence 
their lives. 

Bertie responded by the reminder that 
“ scientific discoveries which are only under- 
stood by the few, can yet change the organ- 
izations of great industries, and impoverish or 
enrich millions of men to whom the first prin- 
ciples of science are unknown.” He empha- 
sized this by the fact that “ philosophical 
speculations beyond the comprehension of the 
undisciplined intellect, have nevertheless been 
the origin of political and social revolutions.” 
‘‘ And we know,” he said, “ ^ if Christian revela- 
tion were really above the reach of the com- 
monalty, it might still have power to produce 
beneficial results.’ ” After a moment Bertie 
added : “ ‘ Not only it miglit, but it does have 
power, for the substance of the revelation is 
received by countless numbers of the un- 


136 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

taught, to whom the technical terms neces- 
sary to define it have no meaning. But the 
mystery is verified in their personal experience, 
in the eternal love of God.’ ” Alice had not 
taken part in the conversation, but as Bertie 
ceased speaking she looked at him with 
one of her brilliant glances, saying : But 
the intellect has a right to assert itself ; we 
ought to be able to give an account of our be- 
lief, and if in the attempt to define it there is 
danger that the glory of the vision will be 
quenched, surely the effect would be mis- 
chievous ; for ‘ if there is a separation between 
faith and reasoned thought, will not faith be- 
come superstition ? ’ ” 

There is no such separation,” Bertie an- 
swered, “Tor the Holy Scripture is unex- 
hausted and inexhaustible ; and all later 
knowledge is a commentary which guides us 
further into the true understanding of proph- 
ets, apostles, and evangelists. And through 
old forms, old words, old thoughts — old and 
yet new — the Spirit of God speaks to us with 
a voice never before clearly intelligible as we 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID^OCEAN. 


137 


can hear it ; and it is our duty and our joy 
to ponder all that has been written for our 
learning, knowing that each mysterious char- 
acter will grow luminous to the eye of faith.’ ” 

Stimulated by Bertie’s example, in my 
stumbling, imperfect way, I strove to enforce 
his words by urging belief in the simple mes- 
sage of the Gospel, which we can all under- 
stand if we pray for grace to believe it. 

Bertie responded, saying : “ ‘Yes, our part is 
to look to Christ, to strive toward the end, to 
strive as those who have found the key of the 
great enigma of life, looking on all men as 
sharers with us of a nature which Christ has 
raised to Heaven ; looking on sin as that 
which only the Love of God could take away 
by taking it to Himself ; looking on the little 
duties and cares of each passing day as the 
elements out of which we are building an il- 
limitable future ; looking to Him as the One 
in whom is the promise and the power of 
unity, redemption, and perfection, which an- 
swers to the utmost wants of man and of the 


world.’ ” 


138 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

Bertie was very weary after this long con- 
versation, even more weary in spirit than in 
body, for he sighed deeply as the others be- 
gan to talk on indifferent subjects, and yet 
he smiled as he turned to me and said : 

What a destiny it is to fight wrong with 
words ; still, I do know that words are but 
symbols of unknown forces, as the rustle of 
leaves are of a wind-power that prostrates 
strong trees and wrecks ships — but,” and he 
sighed again as he added, “ even though one 
knows all these true things, the difficulty 
is to use them when one passes through 
trial ! ” 

During the days that closely followed this 
conversation I was conscious that as Bertie’s 
physical strength failed, his soul strengthened. 
Sentiment also deepened in his mind, and sen- 
timent is the heart of religious life, for it is 
no more like sentimentality than health is like 
disease. I remember a Sunday when as I 
met him with the question, “ Why have you 
not been to church ? ” his face lit up with won- 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


139 


derful brightness as he replied, “ I have been, 
for there is a church everywhere for a soul 
truly solemn in the presence of the Creator ! ” 
That same day he said to me, “ Will it not be 
beautiful to go from earth to Heaven ? To 
see the Truth, to know how and why^ and 
laugh at all our former fears and doubts, 
laugh and wonder at them ! ” After a pause 
he said, “ How many difficulties we find in the 
brain, while there are none in the heart, for if 
we set our minds on knowing what God will 
have us to do^ He is sure to keep the heart 
full of peace.” 


XIX. 


HERE had been no rapid increase in 



_J_ Bertie’s illness, nevertheless it seemed 
wiser to hasten on to Florence, where we are 
comfortably settled for the month of Novem- 
ber, in one of the many villas that are scat- 
tered so thickly on the heights which surround 
and look down on the city called a pearl set 
in emerald.” 

The beauty of Nature, which he can enjoy 
without effort, has been the only tonic Bertie 
has needed since our arrival, and as the days 
wing away, — each new-comer more beautiful 
than its yesterday — he seems constantly to 
gain in strength. If it were not for Mr. How- 
land’s anxiety, I would share Harry’s confi- 
dence that all Bertie needed was rest, for al- 
ready he is strong enough to join the early 
risers who watch for the blush of morning 
light as it illumines the hills, and then steals 


(140) 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 141 

softly downward to the valleys, where it meets 
and absorbs the mist in rosy radiance. Neither 
is he tired, when at noon-time all the land- 
scape is flooded with sunshine ; and he hardly 
confesses to weariness when toward the end- 
ing of the day the wealth of golden bright- 
ness fades into violet tints that at last melt 
into the gloom of night. There have been 
days, too, when Bertie has been well enough 
to go among the pictures and sculpture of 
this beloved city of Art. At such times Alice 
is his guide. I am glad of their friendliness, 
and the proof it is of Bertie’s self-mastery ; but 
I must not linger over these thoughts, neither 
must I tarry among the art-galleries, for other 
influences and associations linked with Flor- 
ence stir Bertie’s heart and mind more deeply. 
He is so eager to trace the resemblance — in 
many points — between this present time of 
conflicting opinions and rival religious systems, 
with that long-ago era when “ the conflict be- 
tween liberal culture and a more passionate 
form of Christian faith so reigned, and when 
the two in their most characteristic forms 


142 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN, 

struggled for pre-eminence over Florentines 
who had been educated into the half-pedantic 
and half-idealistic scholarship of Lorenzo de 
Medici, and faintly shared the new scientific 
impulses of the age of Columbus and Coper- 
nicus, and whose hearts and consciences w’ere 
stirred by the preaching, political as well as 
spiritual, of one of the very greatest as well 
as earliest of the reformers, the Dominican 
friar Savonarola/’ 

Verily no period could be found when 
“mingled faith and culture effervesced with 
more curious results,” and none more rich 
in examples illustrating how the mysteries 
of the Gospel could control the hearts of 
men. These thoughts are full of mental 
stimulant to Bertie, — but dearer than the 
search for parallel lines of history; dearer 
than the contemplation of the pictures he 
loves; dearer than his wonder and delight 
over the marvels of sculpture and architecture, 
is his enjoyment of the beautiful world. And 
love of Nature always leads a devout soul on 
to love of God, for the love and appreciation 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 143 

of God’s earth is one part of the heart’s rec- 
ognition of Him. In this enjoyment, as well 
as in all others, Bertie seems endowed with 
new powers of appreciation and new percep- 
tions of beauty. Everything conspires to in- 
crease this, even the weather, for it is a rarely 
fine season and the air continues as warm and 
the days as sunny as early September in 
America. And it is no wonder the brilliant 
purity of the skies, the sweet softness of the 
atmosphere, and the peculiar charm of the 
scenery are like healing balm to him. 

Chief among these days of peaceful enjoy- 
ment will always rank in my memory a Sunday 
in Florence. It was nearing even-tide w'hen we 
all met in the wide vestibule of the villa. The 
air was warm and sweet, and laden with fresh 
gladness and strength as the evening breeze 
wafted it in through the open door and win- 
dows. Mrs. Howland was the central figure 
of our group. She was dressed in what she 
deemed a fitting robe for the Sabbath — all 
unmindful of the fact that the Lord of the 
Sabbath linked the day with corn-fields and 


144 driftings from mid-ocean, 

the lowly lilies by which He taught, Take 

no thought for raiment/' 

Still, Mrs. Howland in her glossy satin and 
soft laces was a pleasant part of the scene. 
Her husband stood by her side, leaning his 
arm on the richly carved back of her crimson- 
cushioned chair. He, too, had laid aside his 
travelling costume, and was suitably attired 
for the sacred day in well-fitting broadcloth, 
the somberness of which was enlivened by a 
spray of wild geranium Edith had fastened in 
his button-hole. The folds of a heavily wrought 
tapestry, in which the colors had not yet 
faded, formed a picture-like background for 
Mr. and Mrs. Howland, and for Stephen 
Forbes, whom it partly concealed. He wore 
an ordinary every-day suit, and there was 
nothing to note in his appearance except the 
intensity of his gaze, which was fixed on 
Alice. I feel sure, as I remember that look, 
it was one of the hours when she roused all 
there was of good in him — and there was 
some good — as I think there is in every one — 
don’t you ? Alice reminded me of the even- 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


145 


ing in Venice, for her tall, slender figure 
framed by the marble arch of an open window 
was clearly defined against the paling blue of 
the sky. She was simply dressed in a soft 
clinging fabric of white. She was lovely to 
look at, and like one who lived nearer to 
Heaven than the rest of us. Madie stood 
by her with hands clasped around Alice’s 
arm, which rested on a ledge of the stone- 
work of the portico, over which leafy tendrils 
of ivy grew in a wild tangle. Madie was 
radiant in apparel as a gay flower or tropical 
bird ; her frock was of shimmering silk, and 
she was all a-flutter with rose-tinted ribbons 
and sparkling gems. Somehow she suggested 
a landscape, where golden corn and wheat- 
sheaves flash between shadow and shine. No 
wonder the rays of the setting sun played like 
a caress about her little figure. Frank How- 
land, as he looked at her, had much the air of 
a sentinel guarding a jewel ; and this effect 
was added to by his standing at the foot of 
the divan on which Bertie reclined. Dear 
Bertie ! I wondered what thoughts were hid- 


X46 driftings from MID-OCEAN. 

den in the depths of his blue eyes. Their 
expression was a combination of faith and 
perplexity, while there was an unwonted puz- 
zle of possibilities in their steady, calm out- 
look ; but, when after a minute, it changed to 
an upv^dixd look, all the puzzle was gone. I 
turned from the study of Bertie’s face to Edith. 
She was sitting on the broad threshold step 
of the marble stairway that led up from the 
garden terrace. Contrasted with Madie’s gay, 
fluttering draperies, Edith looked like a wood- 
land flower, she was so sweet in her simplicity. 
Her dress was pale blue, and a soft white net- 
work woven of snowy wool, half hid the rip- 
ples of her wavy auburn hair, that, blown by 
the wind, had escaped from the confining rib- 
bon — also blue — which held it back from her 
open brow. She smiled as Harry dropped, 
one by one, a great cluster of roses into her 
dimpled hands, which were clasped into a 
basket-like receptacle. As for Harry, he was 
the noblest figure of our group. What of 
myself — do you ask? I am always a little 
woman in black. 


XX. 


HAVE neglected to record that Edith 



-1- Howland is very happy these days ; like 
Alice, during the by-gone summer she touched 
the heart of life, and love — the word so brief, 
so dear — has made high morning in her soul. 
She is sweet and tender in her joy as June is 
sweet and tender among the months, and the 
question she asked that hour when we were 
surrounded by the hush of the Sabbath twilight 
was an outcome of her joy, and so was the 
blush that flushed her fair face as she said : 
“ Tell me, is happiness found in looking back- 
ward or forward?” There were different re- 
plies to Edith’s question ; some claimed that 
“ the joy of joy is anticipation,” others that 
memory is happiness.” In denial of this 
opinion Bertie gently remonstrated, saying. 

Life is before, behind is Death.” ‘^Yes — 

Life is before,” he repeated. 


(147) 


148 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

Edith is not apt to be quick, still she 
straightway divined that Bertie had not caught 
the meaning of her query, and for a minute, 
the being thus brought into the presence 
of a wider outreach than her question in- 
tended, fell like a shadow over the unclouded 
brightness of her heart. “Yes,’’ she said, 
“ but you are thinking, Bertie, of the endless 
Life of Heaven, while I had in mind only the 
happy present.” “ Would it be a happy 
present without that future ? ” Bertie re- 
joined, and he looked toward me, for he 
knows how dear I hold the hope of Heaven 
and its reunions. At Bertie’s words Alice 
asked, in the half shy way with which she 
sometimes speaks of grave subjects, “ What 
do you mean, Bertie, by -Eternal Life and 
Eternal Death ? ” 

I rather dreaded the discussion I feared the 
question would rouse, but there was no cause 
for anxiety ; no one interrupted Bertie as he 
expressed his belief that the essence of Eter- 
nal despair will be that the lost will hate 
God because of their own self-made charac- 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

ters, their punishment being the endless jar- 
ring of their souls with God’s laws, and their 
sickening at the good and at the God from 
the sight of which and Whom there is no 
escape. Bertie portrayed this despair so viv- 
idly his words seemed prophetic, but it was 
not only a dread future he depicted, — no, in- 
deed, for very gently he ended the conversa- 
tion, saying, “ Though personally I believe in 
Future punishment, I would fain open the 
gates of Heaven here, rather than of Hell 
there ! ” — and how wide he did open them ! 

Listening to his words, truly I felt his weak- 
ness and illness were sent to lead us, his com- 
panions, close to the Heavenly City for some- 
thing more than warning. I feel too, that 
while he may not rise from it for a long stay 
on earth, we who know him will rise with 
power wider, richer, and fuller for the duties 
of life, because like Lazarus, we have received 
unspoken and unspeakable impressions of the 
Beyond. 


XXL 


HE days between that Sunday and our 



JL departure from Florence sped away 
quickly. We started on the journey toward 
Rome in the early morning ; so early we saw 
the sun rise. The sky was cloudless, and earth 
a smile of joy, for though' it is the winter of 
the year, wintry weather has not yet robbed 
the beauty from the wooded hills and valleys. 
The road we travelled offers constant oppor- 
tunity for the study of character, for the 
beauty of nature combined with historical, 
poetic, and artistic associations can hardly 
fail to bring out what is in people. This was 
peculiarly so in Mr. Forbes’ case, and his crit- 
ical, analytical spirit was on the alert as it has 
not been since we left Venice. Ruthlessly he 
put to flight our topographical knowledge, 
while scarcely an object which called forth 
our enthusiasm escaped his sharp satire. I 
know Alice was wounded by this, for I love 
her, and love is quick to observe and feel for 


(150) 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


151 

the loved one. There was, too, almost a sup- 
plicating expression in her eyes, when, as we 
parted for the night, she lingered to whisper 
— “ Please do not let me drift away from you. 
Miss Annie.” 

I do not think she quite realized the 
emotion which prompted the words, but I 
understood all too well their foreshadow- 
ing of disappointment in the future her 
young heart had pictured as bright, beau- 
tiful, and satisfying. Would the full realiza- 
tion of that disappointment come suddenly 
to her I wondered, as the hiding of the blue 
sky came to us — for just between daylight and 
dark — of the day before we reached Rome — 
heavy clouds gathered, and at midnight they 
opened and rain fell in torrents, and when 
morning came the landscape was hidden by a 
chill mist. Perhaps it was this sudden break 
in the weather, perhaps he has overtaxed his 
strength, that has caused Bertie to fail rapidly 
this last week, and I realize the relapse, Mr. 
Howland anticipated, has come. And yet, 
now that the storm is over the days are so 


152 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

beautiful, so brilliant, so cloudless, he is bright 
and cheerful and able to enjoy Nature’s love- 
liness, while he is always ready with a smile 
to speed our going out or to welcome our re- 
turn. Nevertheless, though God’s book of 
Nature is sunlit — and Art is learned in that 
book — the true deep meaning of both Art and 
Nature can only be read by an inner light, and 
that light is being kindled for more than one 
of our party, not by watching the cross of St. 
Peter’s glittering in the sunshine, or the ruins 
of the Coliseum shining in the glow of silvery 
moonlight ; not by minds awed by architect- 
ural grandeur and magnificence; hearts soft- 
ened by revelations of color and form ; not 
by fervor stirred by the sight of martyr’s 
tomb, falling pillars and crumbling arches. — 
No, all these are as nothing before the illu- 
mining of the still small voice ” that is sum- 
moning a soul from the limitations of a weak, 
deformed body to the freedom that 

“ Walks in soft white light with kings and priests 
abroad. 

And summers high in bliss upon the hills of God.” 


XXII. 


S I watch Bertie’s failing strength I feel 



--LJL I have come to another mile-stone in 
my soul’s life, for it is not years but joys and 
sorrows that thus mark our histories, and 
Bertie’s departure will be a great sorrow to 
me. I am saddened, too, because I cannot 
bid him- tell my dear ones in Heaven that my 
spiritual life since they left me has been all 
Upward; for alas! many a time I have lin- 
gered in the valley rather than climb the up- 
hill path, even though so well I know it leads 
on to the breezy mountain-tops of faith. Will 
I ever reach their summit ? Will I come at 
last to Mount Zion? But why do I say at 
last when the promise reads, not we shall 
come, but we are come unto Mount Zion 
and unto the City of the Living God, the 
Judge of all, and the spirits of just men made 
perfect, and to Jesus the Mediator of the New 
Covenant.” 


(153) 


154 driftings from mid-ocean. 

How wonderful this promise is ; it is like 
a hope fresh as dewy fields, or a breath of 
warm sweet air, — are come^' there is no 
hesitancy in the assurance. And yet, have 
I come to this glorious fellowship, is it 
really mine for now ? The thought that it is 
makes it so precious, for I can grasp what 
belongs to life’s eyery-dayness with a restful 
hope thoughts of the future cannot give, be- 
cause the future always seems somewhat re- 
mote and indefinite, however dear it may be. 
I wonder why I tarry so behind Jack’s faith 
in the Unseen. To him it was so real, made 
real because he lived in a constant belief in its 
nearness. For while some might have called 
Jack an idealizing person, there was nothing 
visionary in his faith, that was firm as a rock, 
and radiated from the Cross. It was in- 
wrought also with a practical common sense 
which was strengthened, not weakened, by the 
consciousness of life’s on-reach from the seen 
to the unseen. And even if he was ideal, the 
ideal is not the creation but the gradual dis- 
covery of the human intellect ; the ideal is not 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


155 


within but beyond us, and supreme over us.” 
To become worthy of that beyond was Jack’s 
aim, therefore he regarded human life as a 
mission, the mission of realizing the aim ; 
and it consisted in incessant activity upon the 
path toward it, and a constant struggle against 
the obstacles which obstruct the onward 
path.” It was the deep, profound feeling of 
this that made him so earnest in his plans 
for work here on earth. And how those 
plans were sanctified by his conviction that 
in Christ we are all members one of an- 
other, and this exalted existence and glad- 
dened it, for because of this union in Christ 
Jack was able to share in the joys and sorrows 
of others. 

But I must not linger over these memories, 
even though the turning back to the by-gone 
pages of my heart’s book, on which his influence 
is traced, always opens for me fresh outlooks 
of thought and aspiration, which never fail to 
help me solve the problems of hope and disap- 
pointment, success and failure, sunshine and 
shadow, which enshroud earthly life. For 


156 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN 

Jack’s key to life’s mystery was, God loves^' 
and He knows,'' and He has promised, I 
will give the treasures of darkness, and hidden 
riches of secret places, that thou mayest know' 
that I, the Lord, which called thee by thy 
name, am God.” 


XXIII. 


I T was Christmas eve when we noticed a sud- 
den change in Bertie. And yet Christmas 
morning he was bright, though with a calm 
subdued brightness, more like twilight than 
morning. He talked of his father and mother. 
He asked Harry to push his couch into the 
sunshine, which came streaming in through 
the uncurtained window. He smiled when 
Alice came softly to his side, and he reached 
out his thin weak hand for the Christmas rose 
she brought him, and he held it all day — and 
afterward. 

Yes — all through the morning Bertie was 
comfortable; his mind clear and unclouded. 
One rninute he talked with almost joy of 
“going home” — before nightfall We knew 
the Home he meant — the next he entered 
into some passing event with all his wonted 
keenness. In response to the doctor’s re- 

(157) 


158 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

peated inquiry — “Did he suffer?” he always 
made the same reply — “ No pain — only I am 
tired — so tired.” 

It was noon-time when I observed a before 
unknown look on his face — I knew then 
silence and mystery were very near. — After 
that he spoke but little, and that was all of 
God’s Love — Christ’s nearness — except once, 
when he whispered to Harry : “ Stay by me 
to the end.” And Harry did. 

But why dwell on these details ? Why tell 
of weeping? The simple fact is enough, Ber- 
tie left us. — God loved him, God called him, 
God gave him eternal youth and immortality. 

It was over in a minute — one struggle — 
then peace. — “ For he being made perfect in 
a short time, fulfilled a long time. His soul 
pleased the Lord. Therefore He hastened to 
take him.” 

“ Speak only of departure, not of death ; 

O say not that long life 
Is measured by arithmetic .... 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


159 


Longest is that existence, which though 
brief. 

Has shone for God, and left in legacy 
A trail of holy light. He measures us 
By deeds, and not by periods ; not Dy beat 
Of pulse, or swing of pendulum, or years. 
Goodness is life, with holy memories 
And lofty aspirations, which survive 
The shadows of the tomb.” 


XXIV. 


OW strange it is, this going Home I 



_J L Bertie started so much behind me in 

the Christian life, and yet, he has gone, and I 
am left. He has dropped off the weary load 
of sin and sorrow ; he rests from his labors, 
and his works do follow him.” I said these 
last words aloud as I stood looking down on 
the still form. Alice heard them, and softly 
she whispered, And our work remains. 
What is it ? ” To comfort Harry, was my an- 
swering thought ; but how could we comfort 
him ? 

Poor Harry, he is bowed before the mys- 
tery, and the incomprehensibleness of dying 
to Live. And does Bertie live ? — This ques- 
tion is too solemn and momentous to be 
pushed aside. — And oh, how empty, how cold, 
now in his hour of need, he finds the sophistry 
of the realistic school of thought, which before 


(i6o) 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. i6l 

his heart cried out for consolation had been 
as meat and drink to his intellect. How vain 
a merely humanized view of religion, now, 
when he is brought into contact through a 
personal loss, with the doctrine of Resurrec- 
tion Life, which can only be satisfied by the 
Helper — the Man — human yet Divine. Ac- 
ceptance of Ms satisfaction demands a self- 
mastery that will be hard for Harry Griffin to 
attain ; he is proud, and the laying his in- 
tellectual treasure at the low footstool of the 
Crucified,” will be prefaced by no slight men- 
tal conflict. And yet, it is only thus, and 
there, he can find the key of Faith, that opens 
the gate of Heaven to believers. 

I never think of the word kej/ in connection 
with spiritual things without remembering the 
saying of Origen — the early Church father — 
The Saviour gives as many keys as there are 
virtues and requirements.” And how tender- 
ly our Lord’s personal appearances after His 
Resurrection illustrated this, and how they 
revealed that it matters not how faith comes, 
provided we have it, for He dealt with the 


1 62 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

three greatest personal trials of men : bereave- 
ment, doubt, and sin.” Hence He manifested 
Himself through Love — as in the experience 
of Mary — through Thought^ for the two dis- 
ciples on the way to Emmaus were reason- 
ing men — and through Doubt ^ as to Thomas.” — 
But Harry refuses to be led by these guidings. 
Indeed all that helps him now is the memory 
of the realness of Bertie’s faith ; he said to me 
yesterday, ^‘It was not opinion Bertie cared 
for, but faith.” — “And he made that faith 
his,” I replied, “ by living up to it.” We did 
not continue the conversation, but I am sure 
Bertie’s influence will be a power working for 
good in Harry’s soul ; and such an influence 
always works in two ways, one strengthening 
the will, while the other strengthens the ideal. 
And already the expression of Harry’s face 
indicates that he has encountered some mental 
experiences of greater insight than common, 
and that some new perception of thought is 
forcing itself upon his mind ; and the first step 
toward the Light is to feel the Darkness, and 
he is feeling that now ; while hitherto, I be- 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 163 

lieve with him, as in many cases, the reason 
why the doctrines of Grace so profoundly em- 
bedded in the Gospel are dispensed with by 
the negative writers and thinkers of the day, 
is because, they have not fully had to feel the 
need of them ; because they have not travelled 
with St. Paul through the dark valley of ago- 
nizing conflict, or with Dante along the circles 
downward, and the hill upward ; because, hav- 
ing to bear a smaller share than others of the 
common curse and burden, they struggle and 
falter less beneath its weight.” 

I wish I could feel as easy regarding Madie 
Leigh’s future as I do for Harry’s, but I cannot, 
for her changing moods, I am more and more 
convinced, come from jealousy of Edith. It 
was a sudden expression I caught in Madie’s 
tell-tale eyes that revealed this ; it was called 
forth by a word Harry used in speaking to 
Edith — yes — it was only a word, but the heart 
of love was folded in its meaning as a rose-leaf 
is folded in a rose. I cannot explain Madie’s 
look, but it has made me feel that a certain 
sweet guilelessness has gone out of her soul. — 


164 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

And yet, Madia’s conscience is surely too 
fresh and tender for her to deliberately plan 
to come between Harry and Edith — and still 
she does it ! — And she prevents me from re- 
monstrating by a mixture of self-will and sub- 
mission, reserve and confidence, which re- 
minds me constantly of my undefined recog- 
nition when first she came under my care, 
that her character was full of possibilities and 
but half developed. I am sorely troubled 
also for Alice ; she is so strong and steadfast 
in her attachments, though inclined, like all re- 
served people, to admit but few into the inner 
circle of her affections. Hence when she does 
love it is with the intensity of her nature, and 
like all her deepest feelings, a sacred emotion. 
This leads her to ennoble Stephen Forbes in 
her thoughts, while she attributes to him the 
excellence she desires to have him possess. 
And virtues are wont to partake of the soil 
that nourishes them ; thus those with which 
Alice endows Mr. Forbes partake of her own 
high standard. The knowledge of this rouses 
my anxiety to the high-tide mark, for I re- 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 165 

alize the awakening to his true character will 
be rendered doubly hard by it. 

Every passing day also increases my won- 
derment over Alice’s blindness, and his power 
to so kindle her imagination ; she is usually 
so quick in all delicate instincts. But now, 
even when he disappoints her, she speedily 
finds some excuse, saying : In time, if I am 
patient, we will think alike; he will lift me 
nearer to his intellectual level, and I will try 
to help him to look from the finite to the 
Infinite, from the seen to the Unseen.” 

I know Alice is firm in all matters involving 
principle, but I am disturbed by the subtle 
way in which Mr. Forbes gratifies his desire 
for analysis and investigation of mental pro- 
cesses by striving to dim her Heavenward 
vision, and by efforts to undermine her trust 
in the Fatherhood of God. He tries, too, to 
see how far he can put the world into her 
heart. It is a cruel pastime, but men who 
have no faith in God are wont to be selfish. 


XXV. 


HE last month has been a most unsatis- 



JL factory time to me. I find it hard to 
become reconciled to Bertie’s departure. He 
was so young to go, and there is always some- 
thing doubly sad in the closing of a dear 
opening life — something doubly mysterious 
in the call which bids a young soul pause on 
the threshold and stop there. No — not stop, 
when it goes as Bertie’s soul has to the Home 
where ‘‘ strength is renewed.” This is such 
a blessed heritage for Bertie, he was so often 
tired when here on earth. 

But it is of myself I began to write. I have 
tried to glean harvests of treasure-memories 
as I wander among the ancient and modern 
beauties with which Rome abounds. Yet I 
have been indifferent even when I beheld ob- 
jects and scenes the mere thought of which, 


(i66) 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 167 

formerly, caused a heart-leap. I will not dwell 
on these unsatisfactory attempts. You know 
all about such an experience, how it ends with 
a crash and general clearing out, 'an earnest 
prayer, and a fresh attack upon work, duty, 
and life. Last night I thus climaxed. I went 
to bed early, determined to start afresh this 
morning, and I did ; the old vigor, the old zest 
and interest returned. I was up and looking 
from my window a full hour before Alice and 
Madie were stirring. My first impression of 
this new day was of the beauty of dawn with 
its soft pearly hue. But before the sun had 
time to rise the clouds had become dark and 
lowering. How the wind blew — whistling and 
moaning around the overhanging eaves of this 
old Hotel, that once had been a Palace, and 
once a Prison ! — I felt a longing to go out 
into the gray day ; a longing to have the wind 
whirl me about, and even to have the rain 
beat on me. Somehow I felt as though^ after 
the weeks of Italian sunshine this storm had 
come on swift wings from my distant home in 
rugged New England to shake and rouse me 


1 68 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

into action. — I could almost hear the wind 
whisper, “ Stir up, stir up.” It did me good. 
The old sluggishness left me and I felt the 
throb of contentment beating once more in 
my heart, because, though I can never feel the 
happiness I had when those I loved, and who 
formed part of my very life were with me, I 
can still strive to do life’s work. 

I was thinking of this as I entered Mrs. How- 
land’s parlor, where, in deference to home cus- 
tom, we were wont to all breakfast together. I 
was an hour before the usual time, but Mr. How- 
land was in advance of me. He was standing 
looking from the window out on the falling 
rain. I wondered if the patter of the drops 
beating against the glass had for him, as they 
had for me, a familiar home-like sound which 
made them pleasant as music. As he turned 
to greet me I saw at once that he had no 
thought of home, or music, for there was an 
expression of stern displeasure on his kindly 
face, and a severity in his voice that I never 
had heard before as he asked : What do you 
know regarding Mr. Forbes and his past life? ” 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 169 

I had but little to say in reply, for my knowl- 
edge is bounded by the few facts Harry Grif- 
fin had told me when he introduced Stephen 
Forbes, and they were merely, that during his 
college life at Harvard, his record had been 
that of a fine scholar, with a good moral repu- 
tation, and that his parents were well-bred, 
well-educated people, his father an American 
by birth, his mother Scotch. Their means 
had been somewhat limited till within a few 
months of the time of their son Stephen’s 
graduation, then, by the death of a brother, 
Mrs. Forbes had fallen heir to a large estate, 
which consisted principally of extensive car- 
pet works located in Manchester, England, 
over which Stephen was appointed overseer. 
But with ample means at command his eager 
mind sought a stimulant the routine of busi- 
ness failed to supply. And his parents con- 
sented to his desire to spend several years at 
Oxford. It was there Harry met him, and 
from that time on till the present they had 
continued intellectual friends. 

I was quite unprepared for Mr, Howland’3 


1^0 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

emotion as I told him this was the extent of 
my knowledge of Stephen Forbes — for with a 
bitter sigh he exclaimed, “And on this slight 
knowledge Alice Fraser has engaged herself to 
him.” And then, Mr. Howland was generous, 
he did not blame me ; but he condemned him- 
self harshly for having permitted Stephen 
Forbes to join our party merely because he 
was a friend of Harry Griffin, and an agreeable 
and scholarly man. After a brief silence he 
told me the cause of his present anxiety. He 
began the recital by defining Mr. Forbes’ 
mental and spiritual position from the time 
of his going to Oxford, where he speedily be- 
came known as a young American of unusual 
intellectual ability ; and where he soon joined 
the class of thinkers who feel no hesitancy in 
destroying belief in the Bible and the super- 
natural ; maintaining that “ the essence of 
Christianity is not the possession of super- 
natural life from the love or the gift of a 
Supernatural Being, but simply the discovery 
and certain use of the wise heart.” But while 
Stephen Forbes ranked himself as a member 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


171 

of this school of modern thought, the desire 
which ruled him, was unlike the earnest pur- 
pose of the men he professed to follow. 

His object in seeking “ New light,” was 
simply a desire for the mental gratification a 
new thought afforded, and the zest it im- 
parted to discussion. Hence the deeper 
phases of life which were foundation-stones 
to those with whom he associated escaped 
him, and while “ they advocated noble con- 
duct, and extolled the elation of duty and the 
rapture of righteousness,” he magnified self, 
scorned duty, and mocked at righteousness. 
The natural bent of his mind was specula- 
tive ; it was also of a stoical reasoning type, 
rather than religious and devout, and he had 
not been six months in Oxford before his 
early faith in revelation had gone, and with 
it his faith in God and immortality. And 
when he ceased to believe in God he soon 
drifted beyond moral restraint. — When Mr. 
Howland came to the conclusion of this part 
of Stephen Forbes’ history, I thought the 
tale ended — but one glance at Mr. Howland’s 


iy2 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

face, told me there was another page to turn. 
Before he began it, he went again to the 
window, and looked out on the pouring rain, 
while he bade me listen to the wind. I knew 
this brief pause was to give me fresh courage 
for the coming history. And I had time to 
Look Up,” and it takes but a moment to 
speak to the Heavenly Father — and only a 
moment for Him to answer. 

I will not attempt to repeat the exact words 
Mr. Howland used ; in substance they were, 
that some time before Harry Griffin became 
acquainted with Stephen Forbes — he, Mr. 
Forbes, had won the love of a young girl as 
pure-minded and sweet-hearted as Alice Fra- 
ser. He had returned to Manchester after 
two years spent at Oxford, that he might 
make one more trial of business before he 
decided to follow a student’s life. And it 
was then he saw Milicent Ward. She lived 
with her widowed mother in a simple cottage 
but redolent of English life. Roses clustered 
around the windows and porch, and wall-flowers 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 173 

blossomed out of the thatched roof. Milicent’s 
father was an artist, who, encouraged by one or 
two successful sky and landscapes, had married 
an orphan girl — the daughter of a North of 
England clergyman. But after one bright 
year, success deserted the young artist, and 
at the early age of twenty-six he died, call- 
ing his life a failure and leaving only a slender 
pittance for the support of his wife and child. 
She inherited enough of her father’s love for 
color and form, to have attained by the time 
she was eighteen, a position as designer at 
the Manchester Carpet Works, and it was just 
then that Stephen Forbes returned to make 
his second trial of business. Milicent excelled 
in delicacy of combination and coloring, and 
life looked very bright to her ; it is pitiful to 
think how he blighted that brightness. It is 
a commonplace story, with the slight varia- 
tions of circumstance and surroundings. Mr. 
Forbes saw that which attracted him in Mili- 
cent’s slight figure, cheerful air, quick light 
step, and blue English eyes ; he heard that in 
her soft voice which won his fancy; he was 


174 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

tired of study ; business details bored him, he 
wanted a new sensation, and he found it in 
the society of this young girl. She was well 
read, and yet fresh in mind with ideas of her 
own and not borrowed from books. It was a 
brief love-making.. Mr. Forbes had every- 
thing in his favor, and Mrs. Ward felt only 
pleasure over her daughter’s engagement. 

Three months of happiness followed, but au- 
tumn came and Stephen Forbes began to find 
the new life wearying, and owning no master 
higher than self, he called his engagement a 
summer-day idyl. And with no word of fare- 
well he suddenly vanished from Milicent’s 
life. She had an intense nature, but brave 
with the courage of a noble soul, and for her 
mother’s sake she pushed her sorrow aside 
and resumed her work. But the mother, 
never strong, was unable to bear sorrow for 
her child ; she belonged, too, to a people of 
settled principles who were ruled by good 
laws and this served to make Stephen Forbes’ 
faithlessness and desertion of her Milicent a 
greater shock, and when the spring came 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


m 


Milicent was an orphan. Circumstances con- 
nected with her mother’s death and her pe- 
culiarly lonely position led to a more than 
formal acquaintance with Ralph Sterling, the 
newly appointed rector of St. Luke’s, the 
largest of the parish churches in Manchester. 
Through his efforts Milicent secured a home 
as a companion to an old friend of his, a Mrs. 
Ann Gilbert. It has gone out of fashion to 
acknowledge Providence, but that is what I 
consider the fact that this Mr. Sterling was 
a former Oxford tutor of Harry Griffin. 
They had kept up during the years since they 
parted a somewhat irregular correspondence; 
thus it happened that Harry wrote Mr. Ster- 
ling, while we were in Venice, a letter which 
contained a bright, happy description of our 
life, but it arrived at a time when the hard- 
working rector had just returned from a scene 
that revealed a side of life so unlike Harry’s 
verbal picture, that after a glance he put the 
letter aside to read later on, and then it was 
forgotten for weeks. But when word came 
of Bertie’s death in Rome, Mr. Sterling re- 


176 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

membered it, and being a man of orderly 
habits he found it in a pigeon-hole of his 
desk, where he had put it on the autumn day 
of its reception, and then, he read it, and on 
the mid-way page his attention was riveted by 
the mention of Stephen Forbes, and his en- 
gagement to Alice. “ She is an orphan,’' 
Harry wrote, “an American and an heiress, 
and as sweet and noble a girl as ever walked 
the earth. I deeply regret the engagement, 
for while Forbes is a rare man intellectually, 
spiritually he is worse than a skeptic, and 
yields obedience to no aspiration higher than 
self-pleasing.” After a page of similar items 
Harry referred to Mr. Howland as the guide 
and care-taker of our party. And thus it hap- 
pened that Ralph Sterling wrote him of his 
suspicion that this Stephen Forbes was the 
man who had so cruelly trifled with Milicent 
Ward. 

In response to this letter Mr. Howland 
made immediate efforts to gain information 
regarding Stephen Forbes’ career. And the 
result is that yesterday Ralph Sterling ar- 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN, 


177 


rived in Rome, accompained by his mother’s 
trusted housekeeper and Milicent Ward. 
Had I been consulted I would not have 
arranged for thus disclosing Mr. Forbes’ true 
character to Alice. But perhaps Mr. How- 
land is right, and the only way of convincing 
her of his treachery is by the presence of his 
former betrothed ; and certainly I agree with 
Mr. Howland that Alice must be saved from 
marriage with this heartless, unprincipled man. 
I am deeply grateful also for Mr. Sterling’s 
disinterested kindness. And what a proof it 
is that loyalty to the command, “ Bear ye one 
another’s burdens,” is no fable of sentiment 
or fiction, but a real living principle among 
every-day men and women in this every-day 
world, if God is their recognized Father, 
Christ their Exemplar, Faith their shield, 
and Charity their staff. Verily we sorely need 
such an anchor of Christian unselfishness in 
the presence of Stephen Forbes’ un-Christian 
all-selfishness. 


XXVI. 



EW experiences are more bewildering 


-I- than the power we human beings have 
of meeting emergencies with outward com- 
posure. In spite of his anxiety, Mr. Howland 
had himself so well under control as one after 
another entered the breakfast-room, his man- 
ner showed no sign of disturbance, he even 
said good-morning to Mr. Forbes. But then 
having done his part, he took refuge behind 
a man’s citadel — the morning paper — and be- 
came apparently engrossed in the events of 
interest stirring the political world of Rome. 

Neither did I neglect the usual morning 
greetings, and I talked of the wind and rain. 
I smiled when Alice asked : Did I think the 
storm would prevent the proposed visit to 
the Vatican?” It is strange, but this is the 
first morning since Bertie’s death that any- 
thing like a light-hearted hum of conversation 
has broken the hush that so lingers after a 


(178) 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


179 


separation, caused by the departure from 
which there is no return. Alice and Madie 
were almost playful as they discussed the the- 
ory of color, — Alice maintaining that Nature 
never made mistakes in the colors which she 
brings into juxtaposition, while Madie asserted 
that Nature was guilty of crude harshness in 
tinting and combination. In proof of her 
opinion she quoted the grays and yellow- 
browns found on the upper and under sides 
of lichens, and the bark of some forest trees. 
“ Nature is afraid of sharp contrasts,” she said, 
as she broke a trailing spray of morning-glories 
from the vine blossoming in the window-box, 
and pointing to the delicate white line which 
divides blue from pink, she exclaimed : “ See, 
sharply-contrasting colors do not touch.” 

Without waiting for a reply, Madie sprang 
from her seat at the breakfast-table and 
wound the flowering vine as a coronal around 
the heavy coil of Alice’s beautiful hair. It 
would be dififlcult to imagine a sweeter pic- 
ture than Alice at that minute; but as the 
flowers touched her brow she shivered as 


l8o DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

though with sudden dread, and hastily pulled 
off the wreath and tossed it aside. Ten min- 
utes later the delicate blossoms had curled 
their leaves and drooped and faded. Looking 
at them I could but wonder did Alice instinct- 
ively feel they were emblems of her future ? 
Did some door open for her through which 
she caught a glimpse ? — Be this as it may, she 
was ready to reply to Madie, though the ani- 
mation had gone from her voice and manner. 
Nevertheless the examples by which she illus- 
trated Nature’s harmonious color- blending 
were all vivid as pictures. Think,” she said, 
“ of blue harebells that smile out of tufts of 
green, and are rooted in clefts of slaty rock ; 
where can a more perfect trio of color be 
found? — Think, too, of pale blue and green 
seen in the shine of sunlight, what can be 
more lovely ; and think of ruins half hidden 
by ivy, what can be more tender? ” 

‘‘But these are not contrasts so much as 
blending of color,” Madie replied. 

“Think, then,” Alice answered, “of red 
poppies growing in among the corn, and of 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. i8l 

king-cups blossoming by a dusty roadside. 
Surely they are like a melody for harmony.” 

I think Alice is right, and I believe if we 
took more note of Nature we would find her 
the best and safest color teacher. 

Neither Mrs. Howland nor I objected to 
the plan for the morning at the Vatican, for 
Mrs. Howland had received a hint from her 
husband, which caused her to share my desire 
to get the girls out of the way, while we con- 
sulted how Mr. Forbes and Alice were to be 
told of his previous engagement. This led us 
to eagerly accept his offer to act as escort, 
while Mrs. Howland satisfied her scruples of 
etiquette by including in the party her maid 
Martin, a middle-aged woman. It was early, 
hardly more than ten o’clock, when they start- 
ed, — Edith and Madie with Martin in ad- 
vance, Alice and Mr. Forbes following more 
slowly. The rain was still falling and the 
narrow pavements were wet and slippery. As 
I watched them, spite the storm, I looked 
out on a gay, picturesque scene such as be- 


1 82 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

longs only to an Italian city. My sympathy 
with Alice as she started unconsciously for 
that last walk with Stephen Forbes was so in- 
tense, in imagination I accompanied her every 
step of the way. 

Later in the day, Madie described the events 
of the morning so vividly I feel as though I 
had seen all with my own eyes. On account 
of the storm the huge building was compara- 
tively empty, and the absence of the wonted 
throng of sight-seers served to rivet Madie’s 
attention on a slender English girl accom- 
panied by an elderly attendant. The girl was 
apparently absorbed in the study of one of 
Raffaelle’s Madonna faces, and though it was 
after mid-day when Alice and Edith were ready 
to leave the gallery she was still contemplat- 
ing the picture. Once when Mr. Forbes had 
expressed a half-impatient wish that Alice 
would not prolong her stay, Madie noticed 
the slender girlish figure turned hastily, and 
pushed aside her heavy veil as though to 
speak. But she did not. The rain was still 
falling when the girls started to return, and 


DRIFTINGS I ROM MID-OCEAN. 183 

Madie and Edith again linked arms, and fol- 
lowed by Martin, hastened on their way, sup- 
posing Alice and Mr. Forbes were close be- 
hind them. But on the hotel steps Mr. How- 
land met them with the inquiry, “ Where are 
Alice and Mr. Forbes?” “ They must have 
returned by some other street and entrance,” 
Edith replied, and lightly she and Madie trip- 
ped up the broad marble stairway. They 
paused for a moment as they passed my door 
to ask, “ Has Alice returned ? ” but without 
waiting for a reply they sped on to their 
rooms at the end of the corridor. The echo 
of their light foot-falls had hardly died away 
when Alice stood before me. But oh, such a 
changed Alice — all the color had gone from her 
face; she had a frozen, half-frightened look. 
When I heard her voice, I took courage, 
though it was strange and unlike herself ; there 
was a dull, hopeless patience in her manner 
also, sadder than any violent outbreak of grief. 
She was perfectly calm ; she told me all she 
knew, saying as she ended : “We will not 
speak of it again. No, not again.” — And then 


1 84 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN, 

— just for a second she uttered a bitter cry, 
sharp and despairing. By and by tears came, 
warm, natural tears — then I left her ; for there 
are times when one craves to be alone with 
their sorrow and God. 

It was twilight when I returned to Alice ; she 
was kneeling with her head bowed on the 
cold marble of the centre-table. The comb 
which had confined her beautiful hair had 
loosened, and it fell about her face and shoul- 
ders in soft, wavy masses, and in the dim light 
it concealed the alteration a few hours had 
wrought in the sweet countenance which had 
been so bright and tranquil in the morning. 
But when the light from the lamp I carried 
fell full on her I saw the change. And yet 
her dark eyes were luminous and calm, and 
steadfast as they met mine. I knew from 
their expression that already she had been 
striving to learn from her sorrow, sorrow’s 
blessed lesson, tenderness for other sufferers, 
for almost immediately she asked for Milicent 
Ward. But before I sent for her, Alice 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID OCEAN. 185 

said: ^‘Tell him I will try to forgive. Yes, 
I do forgive, but we will not meet again here 
on earth — perhaps in Heaven — God’s mercy 
is Infinite, and I will pray.” 

A minute later she laid in my hand the 
betrothal-ring, with its one clear-cut diamond. 
Somehow it shone like a cold, glistening eye. 
I have hated diamonds ever since. 

What passed between Alice and Milicent I 
do not know. I left the room as Milicent 
entered, but when I kissed Alice good-night, 
she said in a gentle, sad, but decided voice : 
“ Milicent Ward will stay with me henceforth, 
not as a dependent, but as my adopted sister.” 
It has always been a part of Alice Fraser’s 
lofty nature, when she does a noble thing, to 
do it thus generously and royally. 


XXVII. 



OOKING over the pages I wrote yester- 


-Li day, I find I recorded the afterpart of 
Alice’s discovery of Stephen Forbes’ falseness 
before I told how that discovery came about. 
It was all simple and natural, and while we 
were pondering how to tell her, that blessed 
solver of enigmas — which, as I said, I call 
Providence — had taken the matter out of our 
care, and she was brought face to face with 
Milicent — and then she knew. It happened 
in this way. As Mr. Sterling was about start- 
ing for our hotel he observed a restless ex- 
citement in Milicent’s manner, and he knew 
the best way to quiet it was to occupy her 
mind. Hence he proposed leaving her with 
Mrs. Jones at the Vatican, feeling sure that, 
with her love for art she would be diverted 
by the wonderful treasures that would there 
surround her. It never occurred to him that 


(i86) 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


187 


any of our party would visit the gallery that 
storm-encompassed morning. But hardly had 
he left her when Milicent recognized Mr. 
Forbes, and with a woman’s instinct she 
straightway knew it was Alice, and not either 
Madie or Edith, to whom he had whispered 
words that once she thought were for her 
alone. After her recognition of him, she 
seemed unable to force herself to leave the 
place, not that she lingered with any idea of 
speaking. No, the emotion that swayed her 
was simply a subtle fascination. All living 
things possess something akin to it ; it has 
nothing to do with intellect or affection ; it is 
a mere blind instinct, like that which leads a 
moth to flutter about a flame, or a fly to play 
with a spider’s web. 

And Milicent would have remained un- 
recognized had it not been that just as 
Alice was leaving the Vatican she missed 
her note-book — this explains how she became 
separated from Madie and Edith. As she 
hastily returned in search of it, Stephen 
Forbes languidly sauntered after her — he 


1 88 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

never could keep step with Alice when she 
moved with the light, airy swiftness that was 
rhythmic as music. It was then that Harry 
Griffin joined him ; the note-book was easily 
found, and by it lay a tiny knot of violets 
Alice had bought from a flower-girl, out in 
the rain, in the early morning. She had given 
them to Mr. Forbes, but so carelessly he re- 
garded the little love-token, he never noticed 
when it fell from his button-hole. But Mili- 
cent had seen it fall, and tears had filled her 
blue eyes at the sight. Alice saw it, too, when 
she stooped for "her tablets, and she caught, 
as Milicent did, the fragrant odor of the 
crushed flowers that had been trodden under- 
foot so many times ! 

As she bent forward to reach the note-book, 
Milicent, with the quick impulse of a gentle 
heart, also stooped to pick it up, and it was 
she who handed the dainty golden-clasped 
thing to Alice. Its ivory cover had been 
broken by the fall — not destroyed — only 
broken ! 

As Milicent placed the fragments in Alice's 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


189 

hand she looked up, and there was something 
in that glance which held those two women 
spell-bound. It was Milicent’s gaze that first 
faltered, and then it turned from Alice to 
Mr. Forbes. — And Alice — sweet, tender Alice, 
her gaze followed Milicent’s, and she saw 
an expression on the face of the man she 
loved, which startled her like the forebod- 
ing of some undefined terror — and women 
are quick, love is a speedy enlightener ; after 
a moment, as though by a lightning’s flash, 
she knew. But it was only in a general v/ay. 
Milicent was noble. Her words were few and 
simple ; she made no scene in reply to Alice’s 
heart-pleading query, “ What is it ? ” — she an- 
swered, “ I loved him ; he said he loved me, 
I believed him, we were to have been married, 
but ” 

Alice did not wait for the conclusion of 
Milicent’s sentence, as with a quick gesture 
she silenced the denial Mr. Forbes strove to 
utter. And then, like some winged creature, 
treading on air, she passed down the gallery, 
and on, and out, into the rain and the wind. 


IQO DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

She had reached the hotel steps before Harry 
overtook her, and till that minute she had not 
once faltered ; then strength failed and she 
would have fallen save for his strong support- 
ing arm. All she said was, I am cold, oh, so 
cold.’' And a shiver shook her slight frame 
till it bent and quivered like a reed, but Harry 
knew it was no chill caused by exposure to 
the raging storm and beating rain. Oh, if. it 
only had been ! 

He was tender as a brother; he wrapped 
his warm plaid about her; he guided her 
trembling steps to my door, and there he left 
her, and of our meeting I have already told. 


XXVIII. 



LICE FRASER’S decision to keep 


-LA_ Milicent Ward with her as an adopted 
sister, called forth Mrs. Howland’s strongly 
expressed disapproval. Nevertheless, I con- 
sented, and Mr. Howland did not object. 

The truth is, my own heart goes out with 
great tenderness toward her, she is mother- 
less and still so young. And she has had sor- 
row enough to fill a long life pressed into the 
twenty-three years of her earthly existence. 
Every hour I find also more and more reason 
to respect and admire her. Indeed neither 
she nor Alice are moulded in any way after a 
commonplace type. You know something of 
Alice, and what a rare character hers is, and 
this English girl is not far behind her in the 
possession of a peculiarly refined nature. 
The dignity of her manner, and the simplicity 
of her words revealed this integrity and pure- 


(191) 


ig2 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN 

ness of heart and mind. It is this strength 
of moral principle, and strong faith in God, 
which gives her an influence entirely inde- 
pendent of social position and circumstance. 
At the same time she is lovely to look at ; 
she is not so tall as Alice, and perhaps a little 
too slight, still she is singularly graceful in 
form and movement. Her severely plain dress 
of deep mourning gives also an air of ele- 
gance to her appearance which satisfies even 
Mrs. Howland’s critical taste. Her eyes are 
blue, and Saxon blue eyes have a charm, a 
depth and purity of color, the blue of no 
other race can rival. Do I not know? — 
My mother was an English woman. In Mil- 
icent’s eyes the wistful look nourished by 
early sorrow is half hidden by the longest 
lashes I think I ever saw. Her hair is fair and 
straight, and fine as silk. She wears it simply, 
brushed smoothly back from her broad, clear 
brow. Her face is rather small — in that she is 
un-English — it is oval too, rather than round- 
ed. She has a straight nose and a mouth not 
small, yet one forgets to call it large, it is so 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 193 

delicately formed, and sweet in expression. 
Her complexion, like her hair, is fair, and 
lacks color, — in that too she is un-English, 
though her lips are deep red and rather full. 
Still, sweet and attractive as she is, I repeat, 
Milicent’s power is centred in her moral qual- 
ities. And thus she is another illustration of 
the truth that character is the real seat of 
power and influence. 

But it is time to return to Alice and her 
sudden waking from life’s dream to its bitter 
reality. I may well call it sudden, for be- 
tween the dawning and ending of a space of 
time brief as one day, she lost not only the 
man who had professed to love her, but what 
was far worse to a nature like hers, she was 
forced to realize the man she loved, did not 
exist save in the ideal her imagination had 
created. And yet it was no more possible 
for her to blot Stephen Forbes from her 
memory than it was possible for her mind 
to stop thinking, for to forget is beyond the 
power of mortals. Despite this, how frequent- 
ly we hear repeated the old maxim, “ forget 


1 94 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

and forgive whereas the most we can do is 
not to brood over injuries, and not to think 
unworthy thoughts. This is the way in which 
Alice forgives, and it enables her to encounter 
her life’s undoing with a calm, brave spirit 
which refuses to admit sickly sentimentality. 
Hence there is nothing bitter or overstrained 
in the attitude of her mind, or the emotions 
of her heart, either toward God, the world, or 
the man who has come like a shadow between 
her and love’s sunshine. But the Alice of 
yesterday has gone, never to return, and the 
Alice who has taken her place, is like a stately 
white lily drooping in the May-time of its 
blossoming. 

She and Stephen Forbes did not meet 
after that encounter in the Vatican, and he 
left Rome that very night. Mrs. Howland 
explained his sudden departure to our Eng- 
lish and American acquaintances by the fact, 
that he has hastily decided to join a company 
of scientific men just starting for the wilds of 
Central Africa. This expedition affords Mrs. 
Howland ample material with which to silence 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


195 


the buzz of social gossip. And more than 
once to-day I have heard her enlarging on his 
thirst for new sensations and discovery, say- 
ing, “ Certainly they will be gratified in that 
wonderful weird world of human beings, 
strange birds and beasts, plants and insects, 
among which he will be able to pursue 
his study of the moral and social problems 
of life.” Strangers did not detect the 
satire and bitterness with which she added, 
“ Think, he can study anthropology, eth- 
nology, and even theology, sure that each 
will be presented to his mind in new and 
startling lights.” 

Harry Griffin’s plan to speedily depart from 
Rome causes no surprise, for it is well known 
that for several weeks he has been ready for his 
homeward voyage, but delayed, by the slow- 
ness of the Governmental authorities in obtain- 
ing the permits, necessary for the removal of 
Bertie’s still form. The taking home of Bertie’s 
remains, while it is a sacred service, is, also, 
fraught with much that is exceedingly painful 
to Harry. But the lad’s mother pleads for 


Iq6 driftings from mid - ocean , 

the comfort of her boy’s grave in his native 
land. 

“ 'Tis little, but it looks in truth 

As if the quiet bones were blessed, 

Among familiar names to rest. 

And in the places of his youth.” 

It is thus Mrs. Griffin writes, and Harry is 
not a son inclined to refuse his mother’s re- 
quest. 

Alice and I plan leaving too. We will go 
to England for a few months, and Milicent 
has written to ask her friend, Mrs. Gilbert, if 
she will let us find refuge in her home. Cliff 
House, which Milicent describes as a quaint 
old mansion, located in the vicinity of a sea- 
port town, hidden away in the southeast an- 
gle of Cornwall. It is a quiet nook of the 
world, in among the most romantic and 
interesting coast scenery of that county. 
Meanwhile Madie will remain with Mr. and 
Mrs. Howland and Edith for the present, and 
Frank Howland will join a party of young 
Americans, yachting on the Mediterranean. 
And so it happens we who have been com- 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


197 


panions for months, separate never to meet 
again an unbroken circle, for Bertie has gone 
— beyond return — and Stephen Forbes — truly 
he has passed out of our life, in the sense of 
companionship, as entirely as if henceforth he 
lived in another world — and he does, for that 
matter ! 


XXIX. 


HOUGH the events recorded in theby- 



J- gone pages were deeply interesting to 
Harry Griffin, they have not silenced the 
question that has been pleading in his soul 
for a reply from the hour Bertie’s spirit passed 
into the silence and the mystery of the un- 
seen. And because of this, I know the days 
and nights of Harry’s voyage will be full of 
mental and spiritual conflict, for by nature he 
distrusts mystery, and he belongs to this age 
that is marked by a constantly growing desire 
after Realism. But while I am troubled for 
him, I take comfort in the fact that he 'has 
come to a place in his spiritual life where war 
with self has begun ; hence his soul is grow- 
ing, and it will continue to grow, till he grasps 
the blessed hope of immortality, which he 
cannot now lay hold of, because he is seeking 
to find a Christ without a Cross. Meanwhile, 


(198) 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


199 


Harry says little of what he feels, except to 
Edith, to whom he turns for comfort, and she, 
alas, has so little to give. For while Edith is 
a strong advocate of creed, and the outward 
observance of religious services, when brought 
into contact with Harry’s perplexity, she is 
unable to give any vital account of faith in 
relation to herself ; and what Harry wants is 
the supporting of a belief warm and living in 
its hold of immortal hope, not stereotyped 
words and formal phrases ; and Edith’s plati- 
tudes and repetition of traditional belief is 
something apart from her real self, and empty 
of the personal experience he craves. Thus 
they are like two children groping in the 
dark, unable to help one the other, save by 
the strength there is in the hand-clasp of love. 

I never can understand why Edith attracted 
Harry; Alice, or Madie with her alert mind, 
seem so much better suited to him, and either 
of them would have come so much nearer 
to his intellectual level. Still it is Edith 
Harry has chosen, and she is never so happy 
as when with him ; and despite her dislike 


200 DRIFTINGS FROM ' MID-OCEAN, 

of discussion, during the by-gone months, 
I have never once seen her composure ruf- 
fled when he and Mr. Forbes have reasoned 
and speculated ; though she maintains that 
she has no courage to dispute, and calls her- 
self a mental coward in the presence of facts. 

What I enjoy,” she is wont to say, “ is to 
and there is luxury for me in the emo- 
tion of wonder and mystery.” 

All this is so unlike Madie, who has many 
a time lost her temper during discussions to 
which her petulance has added zest and in- 
terest. 

I think Harry Griflin hardly realizes the men- 
tal stimulant Madie is to him, and this makes 
me anxious ; for while now he is satisfied with 
Edith, and accepts her lack of power to keep 
step with him intellectually as an evidence of 
her womanliness, I fear the subtle influence 
Madie has gained by intruding herself, without 
apparent effort, into conversations which ac- 
centuate her superior knowledge and power 
of thought by bringing them into bold con- 
trast with Edith’s limitations. Madie seeks 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN 20I 

opportunities, also, to display her own grace 
of person, and from having been merely a 
pretty, attractive girl, she has speedily devel- 
oped into a creature so picturesque and charm- 
ing, her presence seems to take the color and 
sparkle from other maidens. 

Despite my anxiety, Harry and Edith are 
to part to-morrow with love and trust un- 
shadowed, and they are looking forward to a 
summer-time meeting, the forecasting joy of 
which sounds in their hearts, like the far-off 
music of wedding-bells echoing over the sea. 
I wish I could divest myself of the feeling 
that this evening is destined to be the time 
which bounds the most light-hearted gladness 
Edith Howland will ever know, and that it 
holds the hour memory will halo all her life 
long, as the crown of her young love. It is 
wont to be thus in the lives of most women 
that one hour is supreme, and glorified beyond 
all others, even though after-joy may be 
sweet and complete. Anyway, I am glad the 
peace and loving stillness of the ending of 
this beautiful day encompassed Harry and 


202 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN 

Edith as they talked of their parting, and that 
Edith smiled at Harry’s brave words, and 
plans for the future. When from plans he 
passed to aspirations, she listened with mar- 
velling exultation to his profound thoughts, 
while the soft flush on her fair face deepened 
into a rosy red as he added words, that 
are among the dearest a good, true-hearted 
woman can hear. For Harry whispered that 
her love would be to him like a guardian 
spirit during the months of their separation, 
and that whenever he looked at the stars 
shining in the clear blue of the over-arching 
heavens, a peace would steal into his soul, be- 
cause their pure light would seem to flash a 
message from her heart to his. Lovers have 
said, and will continue to say, much the same 
words long as the world lasts. And women 
will cherish the memory of such words long 
after the roses have faded from their cheeks, 
and the joy-note gone from their voices. 
Thank God this is so, for memory softens 
many a heart-ache ! 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID- OCEAN 203 

I was sitting in the dimly-lighted parlor a 
little apart from Alice and Milicent, when 
Harry and Edith left the balcony and joined 
me. Without delay Harry spoke of the con- 
flict waging in his mind between faith and 
doubt. In reply I could only remind him of 
Bertie, and his steadfast clinging to the time- 
tested truth that “We must obey before we 
can prove,” and that it is by doing that we 
learn to know of the doctrine, while the sure 
way to find Truth is to be true. 

I was sorry Madie interrupted the conver- 
sation, and still more sorry when Harry ac- 
cepted her offer to send him, in Edith’s let- 
ters, an occasional note, for which she play- 
fully demanded the promise of a now-and-then 
reply. And yet surely Madie would scorn 
the idea of stooping to deceit and meanness, 
and planning to undermine Harry’s affection 
for Edith by anything that required a deliber- 
ate purpose, as written words would. Surely 
her efforts to place herself in a favorable light 
and Edith in an unfavorable, have been the 
outcome of impulse, to which she is inclined, 


204 driftings from MID-OCEAN. 

because she has a ready sensibility, and it is 
easy for her to throw herself into an exalted 
state of thought and feeling. Sometimes I 
think when she is under excitement, it so 
rouses and kindles her imagination and vision- 
ary power, that almost for the time she herself 
confuses her rapid apprehensions with real 
emotions, and so she glides, with a fatal readi- 
ness, into a complacent and aesthetic state of 
mind which seems even to herself to compre- 
hend everything, while it really comprehends 
nothing. She is so sweet and winsome, surely 
this must be so, and yet — yet, I am haunted 
to-night, by much the vague sense of uneasi- 
ness I have felt before, because of the possi- 
bilities of her nature for evil as well as good. 
And again the dim recognition of this which 
I had the day of our sailing, comes back to 
me accompanied by the memory of a quick 
turn of thought which made a mental pic- 
ture, that lasted long enough to suggest its 
parable and parallel linking with the story of 
Madie Leigh’s unfolding life. This thought- 
picture was only of a robin’s nest, I saw just 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


205 


before leaving my New England home. It 
was nestled in among the branches and twigs 
of the maple that grows by the garden gate, 
and half hidden by the tender green of spring- 
time leafage. Fluttering on restless wings I 
saw the parent birds intent on luring their 
fledgings from the sheltering nest that they 
might try their young wings. And oh ! the 
futile efforts those birdlings made. Only one, 
and there were five, attained so much as a 
rod of upward flight — yes, surely this memory- 
picture holds a type of life, but it would be 
meaningless to Harry and Edith were I to 
pass it on to them, for as they said good-night, 
which is their good-bye — Harry is to start at 
midnight — they cast the Past and the Present 
into the background before the bright Fu- 
ture. 

To-morrow Alice and I, also, leave Rome; 
and before the week ends the apartments in 
this old hotel, which we have called our win- 
ter home, will echo to the sound of other foot- 
steps and other voices. 

As I have already said, Alice is not inclined 


2o6 driftings from MID-OCEAN. 

to Speak of herself, and at this time she is 
more than ever reserved. Still, to-night she 
gave me a broad inlook into her heart. I went 
to her room to help with her packing. As I 
entered, she was turning the leaves of a Swit- 
zerland guide-book. Almost every page sug- 
gests some memory of Bertie, and the happy 
days of our by-gone summer. Many of these 
memories are emphasized by pressed flowers, 
leaves, and ferns. As I approached, Alice 
pointed to a cluster of star-like forget-me-nots, 
from which the blue had not yet faded. 

Bertie gave them to me,” she said ; ‘‘ he 
gathered them from a grave in Geneva,” and 
she added : “ I remember how I asked him 
what I should do, if as life went on, I came 
to a grave on which no flower grew — a grave 
marked only by a stone. Who will roll the 
stone away? — that was what I asked Bertie.” 
For a minute Alice was silent, then she softly 
said : And Bertie answered, ^ God ! ’ ” 


XXX. 


I T was morning when we left Rome, and a 
perfect Italian day, the wind a whisper of 
air, and the sky intensely blue without a cloud. 
Mr. Howland made every possible arrange- 
ment for our comfort. He insisted, also, on 
going with us as far as Havre; After that, 
with England’s white cliffs so almost in sight, 
he trusted us to take care of ourselves. And 
though in reality neither Alice nor I had taken 
so much as one step on English soil, it in no 
way seemed a foreign country, and we felt 
almost as if we were going home. I never 
can forget the warm, hospitable welcome with 
which Lady Ann greeted us. I call her Lady 
Ann, for this is the title by which she is 
known in the outlying parishes by the simple 
country folk, among whom she has been a 
ministering angel for years. The rooms allot- 
ted us all have windows looking seaward, and 

(207) 


2o8 driftings from mid-ocean, 

the house on this side is shielded from the 
north and east winds by high cliffs, while per- 
pendicular rocks and out-jutting reefs form a 
natural rampart against the incoming tides. 
To the west runs a long level stretch of sandy 
beach, and beyond a broken surf-line — and 
then the waters of the ocean. — I am thus mi- 
nute in description that you may know how 
peculiarly well situated the place is to Alice 
Fraser. Indeed it would be difficult to find 
more picturesque surroundings, and more ob- 
jects of interest within easy access, had we 
searched from one end of England to the 
other. And now, while we are resting in this 
quiet retreat, I will put aside my pen for a 
time. — When I resume it, I wonder, will it be 
to tell of joy or of sorrow ? 


PART II. 


(209) 


“ Life’s harvest reap, like the wheat’s fruitful ear.” 

“ Is life worth living? Yes, if it be true 
’ Life is worth living, death worth dying too.” 


( 210 ) 


I. 


S after a silence that spans years I 



re-open my diary, or character -study 
book, whichever you call this record, I realize, 
when a task is undertaken it is wise to avoid 
a break if possible — for I am at a loss just 
when, where, and how to take up the dropped 
stitches of my narrative. I am bewildered also 
by the fact that it is woven from real life, hence 
I necessarily find many threads broken, and 
others tangled and mixed in strange unex- 
pected ways. But as I delve in memory’s 
store-house, searching for periods worthy of 
note, because of their leading to the knowl- 
edge of God as a Father, and their influence 
in moulding character, this difficulty smooths 
itself out. And I find that memories assume 
the form in my mind of separate pictures, in 
which the spiritual experience of the differ- 
ent members of the little company of which 


(2II) 


212 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

I have told in the foregoing pages, stands out 
distinctly portrayed, in the bright colors of 
joy, and the dark shades of sorrow. As for 
the events and surroundings connected with 
these experiences they are like frames — some 
all of gold, others, alas, mere tinsel, and still 
others good solid wood, ash, oak, and cedar. 
I am brought face to face, too, with the fact 
of life’s capacities and issues independent of 
circumstances, for I realize as I never did be- 
fore, ‘‘how much more life is than the mere 
personal sorrow or joy through which it finds 
expression ; more than the length of days in 
which it is visible to human eyes ; more than 
the fullness of means which reveal its power. 
All these pass away, but in the process of 
their vanishing a spiritual result has been fulfill- 
ed. The soul has been brought into fellowship 
with man and with the world and with God. It 
has shaped a character for itself. It is at the end 
— most solemn thought — as it has been used.” 

How the knowledge of this makes “ each 
day a little life,” each hour sacred, for as 
Schiller wrote : 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN, 


213 


“The moments we forego 
Eternity itself cannot retrieve.” 

And yet it is not the hours that are import- 
ant, but as I said before it is the way in which 
we use them. I made not long ago a brief 
manual of the value of Time, because of the 
opportunity it gives for serving God and man, 
and just here I note down a page of extracts 
from it, for I would fain emphasize Dante’s 
line : 


“ Who knows most, him loss of time most 
grieves.” 

And Jeremy Taylor’s maxim: He that is 
choice of his time will be choice of his ac- 
tions.” These words are illustrated by Rich- 
ard the Second’s assertion : “ I wasted time, 
and now time doth waste me.” This truth 
Milton also accentuates, saying : The mis- 
spents of every minute are a new record 
against us in Heaven. Surely if we thought 
this, we should dismiss them with better re- 
ports and not suffer them to fly empty away. 
. . . . How happy is it when they carry up not 


214 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN, 

only the message but the fruit of goodj and 
stay with the Ancient of Days to speak for us 
before His glorious throne.” 

To return to my narrative, the first epoch I 
pause to ponder is sweet as a violet peeping 
out from under the withered leaves of a by- 
gone summer; and during it I learned the 
privilege as well as the duty of cheerfulness — 
that other name for happiness. — I found also 
the surest way to obtain this blessedness con- 
sists in not magnifying trifling trouble, but 
resolutely looking on the bright side, remem- 
bering even when sorrow presses heavily on 
the heart it is no excuse for separating one- 
self from the interests of others, for separation 
not only leads to selfishness but it results in 
dullness. Seeing this I plainly saw, too, that 
if I was to be cheerful and happy and helpful 
to Alice, my heart must be like a projectile, 
able to reach out of my own experience, and 
into hers, even though it involved a double 
amount of discipline, my own, and hers too. 

For the first few months after we came to the 
Cliff House it cost me something of an effort 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


215 


to do this, though well I knew the truism, 
that “ life is the discipline of love, and love is 
the soul of life.” But when I did accept it, 
I straightway saw it was my Heavenly Father s 
way of giving me the comfort of again being 
of service, and this makes the third time He 
has manifested to me that my calling and vo- 
cation in life is “ to comfort others, with the 
comfort wherewith I am comforted.” For 
when Jack was taken from me grandpapa so 
needed my care, and then when he was taken, 
I was all in all to my father, and now father 
has gone, and Alice needs me. But her need 
is only for a passing time ; I am not to her as 
I was to Jack, grandpapa, and father, their 
dearest earthly treasure. Indeed I am inclined 
to think, judging from my own experience, and 
that of the friends I have known most inti- 
mately, God makes us a necessity to but one 
or two persons, just as we only have the 
capacity to love one or two with an all- 
masterful love. There is something in this 
that ought to comfort lonely people who have 
once filled the first place in dear hearts that 


2i6 driftings from MID-OCEAN. 

have gone to Heaven, for in the soul’s life 
love is like memory an abiding possession. 
But this does not make loneliness any the 
less real, it does not make pain any the less 
pain, but it helps us to endure as seeing 
Christ — and in Him — our loved ones who are 
invisible; it makes us yearn for unrealized 
ideals, and it warms into activity, the ques- 
tions, How can I fill my empty life with en- 
ergy, love, and service again? How can I 
keep care outside my heart, and tranquillity 
in it ? 

These are difficult questions ; no wonder 
they can only be answered by the love of 
Him, through which we learn that whether 
life be happy or unhappy, empty or full, does 
not depend on circumstances, but on the spirit 
in which we live. This suggests a Bible verse 
which I have before said always perplexes me. 
I refer to the command, “ Bear ye one another’s 
burdens.” I am convinced it is strictly con- 
fined to the duty of giving, and quite inde- 
pendent of receiving, for except in material 
aid, however sweet and soothing sympathy 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN, 217 

and love may be, in hours of anguish it can- 
not bear the burden. The older I grow the 
more I am impressed with the truth that we 
must, as far as earthly aid is concerned, bear 
our trials alone. The reason is obvious, and 
we know where the heavy-laden are to look, 
and knowing this, how our mortal loneliness 
seems to echo the words, “ Of the people there 
was none with Him” — and “the servant is 
not above his master ” ! I often wonder that 
clergymen preaching on the solitariness of 
Christ — which is a type of our loneliness of 
soul — do not illustrate the subject by the 
simple record contained in the eighth and 
ninth chapters of John, where in a few words 
all the story is told. What a picture they 
suggest ! “ And every man went unto his 

own house; Jesus went unto the Mount of 
Olives.” 

And yet, while this loneliness of soul must 
belong to every true life, while each nature 
has its own temptations, and the individuality 
of each necessitates that each must take up 
their life-plan, and meet their trial-hour alone. 


2i8 driftings from MID-OCEAN. 

the spiritual life is so mysterious, so complex, 
our aloneness does not interfere with the truth, 
that we share the joys and sorrows, the sin 
and weakness of those about us, for in Christ 
we are called to be fellow-workers with God, 
and His sympathy and succor takes hold of 
weakness, sin, and sorrow with a clasp as firm 
as that with which it grasps gladness and good- 
ness. 


11 . 



KNOT can often be untied by day- 


light which by lamplight seems inex- 
tricable.” This old proverb comes to my 
mind as I recall my last night’s perplexity as 
to whose story I should tell first, for this 
morning as I ask the question a sweet voice 
answers, “ Mine.” — Looking up I meet the 
gaze of loving eyes with a deep calm in their 
depths that reminds me of the peace which 
floods a mid-summer sky after a storm has 
cleared away. Alice’s voice decides me, for I 
need hardly tell you it is Alice who spoke. 
And I will begin with her history, taking it 
up where we left it. You will remember my 
last mention of her was just after our arrival 
at the coast-town at the far end of Cornwall. 
Almost immediately I recognized the ministry 
of Nature was the best solace for her wounded 
heart. And as she entered into companion- 
ship with sea, land, and sky, sadness slowly 


(219) 


220 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

vanished from her sweet face as mist fades 
before sunrise. I do not mean that in a few 
brief weeks she found this tranquillity of 
soul. No ; there were months and years 
of hard struggle, before she came out of the 
shadow, and even then, after a brief gleam of 
sunshine, darkness settled again for a time 
over her heart’s horizon. Meanwhile, for her 
comforting, she heard a voice in the sea- 
waves; she saw a meaning in the out-jutting 
reefs, the bold^rocky cliffs, and in the peace- 
ful, low-lying shore. There were helps for 
her, too, in the well-nigh endless variety of 
inland objects surrounding the Manor on its 
landward sides, and they were blended into 
the unity of a picture which suggested the 
unity underlying her life, though its calm had 
been so rudely broken. Then, too, though her 
heart did not cease to ache, she was diverted, 
for how could a mind active as hers be dull, 
when every simple thing seemed to ask a 
question ? 

“ Think,” she said, I do not even know 
what gives its loveliness of form to the lily ; 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 221 

its depth of color to the sunset ; its fragrance 
to the rose.” 

No, I cannot be dull,” she continued, 

* when earth, air, and water are alike mys- 
terious to me ; when as I stretch out my hand 
I do not touch anything the properties of 
which I have mastered ; and all the time Na- 
ture is inviting me to talk earnestly with her, 
to understand her, to subdue her, and to be 
blessed by her.’ ” 

The interest the study of Nature afforded 
Alice’s desolate heart was like a friend to her 
during the first six months of our stay with 
Lady Ann, and it has been an abiding guest 
during every year that has come and gone 
since, and its interest knows no abatement 
whether the season be spring, summer, au- 
tumn, or winter. As a sequence to this, 
Alice’s mind awoke to an increased desire for 
a knowledge of science and its wonders, and 
this led to a time of mental perplexity and 
spiritual conflict, for it brought her into con- 
tact with thoughts and theories that belong 
to this era, and she did not escape the theo- 


222 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN 

logical difficulties and up-turning of soul, an 
earnest seeker after truth must encounter 
now when the spiritual and religious atmos- 
phere is as full of theory and speculation as 
the air is full of snowflakes during a Decem- 
ber snowfall. I did not regret this expe- 
rience, for I felt sure it would leave Alice with 
a mind and soul like a blank white page ready 
for the writing of faith. For she had given 
her heart to Christ long before the discipline 
of doubt and perplexity came, hence I knew 
in His good time He would lead her out of 
the shadow into the clear shining of His Love, 
and I knew, because I had been tried, that 
while — if I may recall the familiar story — 
the pitiless Sphinx sets before each genera- 
tion the enigma of existence in a new form, 
the answer to the old riddle is always the 
same, Christ. Thus I did not trouble, even 
though she did stumble and flounder through 
drifts of speculation, while now and then 
theological dogma and hazy, subtle argu- 
ments dimmed her spiritual sight. When at 
last the Love broke through those clouds of 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 223 

doubt it was indeed a clear shining after rain, 
and a light so bright her sight was like that of 
an eagle that sees beyond the fog and mists 
that encompass this lower world. The prob- 
lem that perplexed Alice most during the sea- 
son of doubt that tried her faith revolved 
around the mystery of God’s goodness, bring- 
ing the elements of human happiness into 
the foreground of a life, and then the destruc- 
tion of those elements by His severity. The 
only reply I could give to this perplexity was 
the simple one that God knows and He loves, 
for that satisfies me more than any argument. 
But Lady Ann probed that, and many am 
other of Alice’s queries, to the very centre. 
By way of illustrating this especial difficulty, 
she turned for a metaphor, to Alice’s favorite 
teacher, — N ature. 

And a change in the weather made Nature 
a well-chosen commentary wherein to seek for 
an illustration of the seeming contradiction in 
Goodness and Severity. The morning Lady 
Ann referred to it, low black clouds came 
scudding from eastward over the sky, till be- 


224 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

fore noontime, they had hidden the blue that 
for days had been clear as a wide-open Gospel 
page. The wind also, caught the waves, and 
dashed them far up the sandy beach, and 
against the rocks and reefs, where they broke 
in foam-crested spray, or rolled seaward again 
to mingle with the angry turmoil of the rag- 
ing waters of the Bay. During the hours that 
storm continued, Alice did little but look from 
the window. 

“ It surely ought to help explain my life,” 
she said, ‘‘for Nature must be able to inter- 
pret the moral scenery of our lives, in the 
griefs, as well as in the joys that come through 
the affections.” 

“Not only ought, but does,” Lady Ann 
said. “For while ‘God has all tenderness. 
He has nothing of weakness, hence with Him 
while there is unmeasured goodness there is 
no leniency, no mitigation of holy Law,’ when 
He knows the higher education of His chil- 
dren needs its enforcement.” 

For full five minutes after Lady Ann ceased 
speaking, the silence in the room was unbrok- 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN, 22 $ 

en, except by the moaning of the wind and 
the roar of the waves. 

Presently the old lady continued : 

“ ‘ Surely the dearest part of affection is its 
unchangeableness, hence the elevation we are 
conscious of when we lift ourselves to the love 
of God, the serene peace which an affection at 
once so lofty and so secure breathes.’ ” 

It was by such sentiments this high-minded 
woman made us feel that though tempted on 
the tenderest side of his nature, no soul has a 
right to depart from the truth of his own be- 
ing, from that in man which corresponds with 
the severity of God.” 

“ Remember,” she said ; “ ‘ pliancy, yielding, 
the easy moulding of one’s own sense of Right 
to the inclinations of another are the certain 
means to loosen the foundations of influence, 
to make light and unsubstantial the feeling of 
regard, to remove even the possibility of that 
moral rest and confidence for the heart, which 
is the mightiest hold that one being can have 
upon another, the nobility and strength of the 
affections.’ ” 


226 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

She bade us also remember, that ‘‘ we have 
serener hearts, because with God there is no 
variableness nor shadow of turning, and that 
knowing both the aims and the ways of His 
goodness, we know also the severity with 
which He adheres to them.” 

That Lady Ann had attained the serenity 
of spirit this knowledge gives, one look at her 
clear-cut face told, it was so calm and beauti- 
ful in her old age, and it glowed with such 
tender affection as she kissed Alice, saying : 

Never forget, my child, ‘in God’s dealings 
with each of us. Goodness and Severity are 
the personal appeals, the loving methods by 
which the Father of Spirits works the deepest 
Word of His grace ‘ Be' ye holy, for I am 
holy: Be ye followers of God, even as dear 
children.’ ” 

It is sweet to observe the warmth with 
which Lady Ann’s heart has gone out toward 
Alice, drawn by the magnet sorrow always is 
to those who know by experience what sorrow 
means. And hence, because she had been 
sorely tried herself, she strives to lead Alice 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 22 / 

and Milicent to the knowledge that a woman 
may be vanquished as the world judges, and 
yet out of defeat gain a victory greater than 
any the world knows. And think! how the 
influence of one woman’s gentle, tender life, 
can brighten hundreds of other lives, for there 
is no staying an influence once started. 

The secret of Lady Ann’s influence is not 
far to seek, and it is the one always sure to 
succeed, for it is the old secret of a loving 
heart from which selfishaess has been purged 
in the furnace of sorrow, and of a pure 
spirit fashioned into a likeness of Christ by 
long study of His character. And thus her 
greatest joy consisted in efforts to alleviate 
human suffering, and in pointing to a life 
higher and better than earth’s sin and trouble- 
marred existence. 

Ralph Sterling’s was one of the lives Lady 
Ann Gilbert had thus influenced, and he never 
forgot that the first strong impulses of his 
heart toward God, justice, and truth were 
roused by her teaching and example. And 
he no more thought of letting the mid-summef 


228 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

holiday pass without a visit to his old friend, 
than he would have thought of omitting his 
yearly visit to his parents. As for Lady Ann’s 
influence over Alice, it did more than brush 
away spiritual difflculties. For she made 
plain, also, that the conventional pedantry, 
which had somewhat involved Alice’s ideas 
of a woman’s education, was not the highest 
and best development of which she was ca- 
pable. And where Mr. Forbes had reduced 
Alice’s arribition to the narrow limit of his 
own outlook, which considered a University 
degree a high enough aim, Lady Ann made 
her realize that a simple, noble woman was a 
higher being than one who had spent her best 
years in a continuous struggle to obtain a 
world of knowledge, if to gain it she lost that 
grace of soul that made her woman. 

Alice responded to Lady Ann, because 
from the first she had felt that the fact that 
she had been deceived was no reason why 
her life,, in so far as it touched other lives, 
should be narrowed. Work remained, and 
victory over sorrow and self, is one way of 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


229 

yielding service — if it be service for Christ’s 
sake. 

But I have told you quite enough of the 
healthful influences that surrounded Alice dur- 
ing the time when she was learning to suffer 
and be strong.” — I say suffer, because she 
was not a woman to cease loving, when de- 
ceived and cruelly wounded ; for with her, lov- 
ing meant the acceptance of an emotion that 
never could entirely pass from her steadfast 
soul, even though the object that called it 
forth might. And had Alice been married 
before the discovery of Mr. Forbes’ treachery, 
I think she would have thrust her wounded 
heart on one side, and striven in all sweet, 
wifely ways to win him to a nobler life. Not 
being thus bound, I feel the time will come 
when she will realize what Milicent Ward has 
discovered, that 

“ The man she loved, 

Not only from her present had withdrawn, 

But from her past, and there was no such man, 
There never had been.” 

And thus, out of the wreck of her early joy, a 


230 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN 

more beautiful joy may dawn, bright even, as 
the colors of the fire I had kindled from the 
wrecked drift-wood. 

As you have doubtless read between the 
lines, the relation existing between Lady 
Ann, Alice, Milicent, and myself quickly lost 
the element of formality, and friendship speed- 
ily led to our becoming inmates of her home, 
rather than remaining mere “ lodgers.” And 
what a blessed home this old Cliff House has 
proved. 


III. 


I LEFT Alice with Lady Ann and Mili- 
cent that year while I made a hasty 
visit to New England, meeting the Howlands 
and Madie on shipboard. I found Madie 
greatly changed, and at first it was difficult 
for me to believe she was the Madie I had 
parted from in Rome only a few months be- 
fore. She had developed into a brilliant 
beauty, and acquired an easy fluency of speech 
that made her a sparkling conversationalist. 
And yet, though able to deal rhetorically and 
spiritedly with varied topics, I felt it was mere 
surface talk, and a ready ability rather than 
conviction. An hour spent in Madie’s society 
convinced me of this, and of the sad truth 
that she had no real regard for religion, even 
though she observed outward forms of wor- 
ship, and no voice equalled hers in sweetness 
the Sabbath evening we were on shipboard, 

(231) 


232 DRIFTINGS FROM MID- OCEAN. 

when she sang hymns by the score. But I 
will not dwell on these details. Madie’s story 
is but another version of the old tale “ of a 
woman’s shutting her eyes to the issues of 
self-will and jealousy till the temptations they 
suggest passed from timid thought to the as- 
sertion of deed ; and a sweet, well-ordered 
life, founded on principle, is sacrificed to the 
imagined sweetness of self-gratification.” From 
such a career there can be but one result — 
“ they who pluck flowers from the edge of the 
precipice must be prepared to fall.” 

Madie deteriorated quickly, and her half- 
defined wish to divert Harry Griffin’s affec- 
tions from Edith to herself became a fixed 
determination at the time when she play- 
fully proposed to enclose a now-and-then note 
in Edith’s frequent letters to him. Thus be- 
fore winter had glided into spring the notes 
had outrun the space allotted them in Edith’s 
well-filled envelopes, and they winged their 
way to Harry as independent missives. This 
did not disturb Edith, for suspicion is an out- 
growth of lack of confidence, and her trust in 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 233 

Harry was complete. Once she did ask* 
Madie what she found to say, and Madie. in 
reply told her she was studying art and sub- 
mitting her ideas to Harry. In fact, Madie 
was studying harder than ever she had, but it 
was not art. No, it was dull theological es- 
says and scientific pamphlets, which many a 
time sent her to bed with a headache, because 
she found it such a hard task to cull fresh 
speculations, arguments, and theories on the 
profound subjects which were of interest to 
Harry, and which made her letters acceptable 
to him. And all the time she personally 
cared no more for the subjects she discussed 
than the November wind cares for a dry leaf 
it sends flying through the air. And yet she 
started currents of thought that drifted Harry 
Griflin farther out than he had ever been on 
the restless sea of speculation, where he heard 
only the 

Melancholy long withdrawing roar’- 
of “ the sea of Faith 

Retreating to the breath 
Of the night wind, down the vast edges drear 
And naked shingles of the world,’’ 


234 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

Then again she stranded him among reefs 
of doubt and unbelief that made war not 
only upon theology, but on faith. 

All this breadth of view and glow of thoughts 
and theories that marked Madie’s letters was 
in striking contrast to Edith’s narrow range 
of topics, which revolved around and reflected 
the light of Harry’s own opinions, till some- 
times she seemed to possess no thoughts dis- 
tinctively her own. 

Harry was loyal, but he could not fail to 
observe the difference in Madie’s and Edith’s 
letters, and when a man pauses to compare a 
woman with whom he can exchange ideas with 
one who is merely receptive, a tide has begun 
to rise in his heart which almost impercepti- 
bly increases till what at first was only a nar- 
row brooklet widens into a sea that can even 
roll between, and divide hearts, that have 
plighted troth to be as one. 

Poor Edith ! It was strange how long she 
remained blind to the danger threatening her. 
But when at last her eyes were opened — even 
though she shut them quickly— she had caught 


Driftings from mid-ocean. 235 

a glimpse which in a moment changed sun- 
shine into shade. The swift glance which 
wrought this change occurred the September 
day of our arrival — September, Edith’s wed- 
ding month. — From the moment land was 
sighted I noticed that Madie was deeply ex- 
cited ; it was manifested by an accentuating 
of her always rapid variations from quietness 
to gaiety, from smiles to seriousness. The 
truth is, she realized this meeting with Harry 
would either crown her efforts to win him 
with victory, or stamp them a failure. No 
wonder, then, her heart beat high, while the 
color deepened in her cheeks and the light 
brightened in her eyes. It was a hard ordeal 
for Harry to encounter, as in the eagerness of 
welcome he stepped lightly on the deck of 
the brave steamer just come to port, and he 
was entirely unprepared for it. Edith and I 
were unprepared also, for the skillful scheme 
by which Madie secured a position which 
compelled him to greet her before he could 
reach Edith, who, in her happiness, had not 
given a thought to personal adornment, 


236 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

whereas Madie had concentrated her power 
of winning admiration into that hour, and she 
had never been more radiantly lovely to look 
at — and — Harry saw that loveliness, not a 
turn of her graceful head, not a ripple of her 
golden hair, not a smile playing about the 
dimpled mouth, nor a flash from her bright eyes 
escaped him. She did not mean they should, 
and she had a genius for making impressions. 
It is a power many women possess, but thank 
God only few stoop to use it. 

Madie’s heart, also, was filled with a determi- 
nation to make its story audible to Harry with- 
out uttering a word, and he understood that 
silent language — and their eyes met.—It was 
at that moment Edith swiftly made her way 
through the crowd of departing passengers and 
stood by his side. And though wont to be 
slow in her perceptions it did not take so 
much as a brief second for her to grasp the 
full significance of that glance. I will not 
linger over that minute. Harry Griffin was 
noble, and sincere ; he truly loved Edith ; the 
emotion Madie stirred in his heart was in one 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 23 / 

sense momentary, and almost before the 
touch of her hand, the flash of her blue 
eyes had time to formulate into thought, 
he had trampled under foot the tempta- 
tion to yield her anything that did not be- 
long to her, and he let her hand fall from 
his, with a gesture, quick as that with which 
he would have brushed away a stinging insect. 
— But the sting had been given, — the glory 
had faded from the meeting that meant so 
much to Harry Grifiin and the woman who 
before the month ended he called wife. They 
neither of them said a word to each other of 
the discovery that minute had held. Perhaps 
it was better so, but I think not. I think it is 
safer when a shadow falls between loving 
hearts, to bravely walk through it, and sound 
the darkness to its depth ; then if it lifts, all is 
well, while lurking shadows hold strange fore- 
bodings, and cast weird outlines. 


IV. 


HREE weeks after our arrival Harry and 



JL Edith were married. She was a fair, 
sweet bride, and very naturally she under- 
went the transformation from a timid maiden, 
to a self-possessed matron. And her love for 
Harry was so deep and true, for a time it ex- 
cluded the memory of the glance which had 
disturbed her. Harry also put that memory 
aside, and during the early days of their mar- 
riage he was if possible more tenderly con- 
siderate than he had been during the days of 
courtship. Thus Edith was not entirely with- 
out a honeymoon. But oh ! it was so brief, 
for almost before the crescent had glided into 
a full rounded orb, clouds had appeared in her 
sky — and one cloud can hide the moon ! I 
discovered this during the week I spent with 
them before I returned to England, for I saw 
that while faithfully performed, the charm had 


{238) 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID OCEAN. 239 

gone for Edith from the simple, homely duties, 
so dear to a loving woman. It could hardly 
fail to be so, for she was always impressionable, 
and as quick to detect a change of feeling in 
those she loved, as she is slow to catch an 
idea, hence she was sensitive to the fact that 
Harry’s soul was living a life in which she had 
no part. Recalling that time I can but won- 
der it did not end in the total wreck of Harry 
and Edith’s happiness. And I think it would, 
had her love for her husband been less pro- 
found, but its sincerity enabled it to cast anchor 
in his heart, even when they seemed drifting 
apart. She was also so sweetly patient and 
unselfish, and so brave in her efforts to conceal 
her disappointment, the music never went from 
her voice, nor the gentleness from her words, 
even when her artistic and romantic nature 
were most tried by Harry’s scientific and rea- 
soning spirit. Then, too, Harry was not at 
his best those days; his misgivings on points 
of established beliefs made him restless, and 
the unsettling of what little faith he had once 
possessed had told on his temper. The sim- 


240 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

pie truth is, he was too honest for compromise 
and sham, and too much in earnest to rest sat- 
isfied without seeking a solution of the specu- 
lations and doubts, that stimulated by Madie's 
suggestions, had increased till they were be- 
ginning to have much the same effect that 
overwork has on such a mind and body as 
his. And Edith had to endure a large share 
of the mental and physical discomfort this 
induced. For while this is unquestionably an 
age in which the rights of women are regarded, 
there will, nevertheless, as long as time lasts, 
continue among even the best of husbands 
slight conjugal tyrannies of temper and self- 
assertion. And had there been no note of 
discord, the relation of husband and wife is 
always more difficult to adjust than any other, 
bringing as it must two individualities into 
the closest relationship, and thus bringing dif- 
ferent methods of thought and different train- 
ing into intimate contact. Yet had it not been 
for Madie Leigh’s interference during the 
months of their engagement, I do not think 
Harry or Edith would have felt the blank 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 24 1 

caused by the difference in their intellectual 
power; but when once revealed, it became 
daily more apparent, and Edith from conscious- 
ness of inability to follow Harry’s mental 
flights grew silent, while he turned for com- 
panionship to his books and scholarly friends. 
For like many another man he was too clumsy 
to know how to brush aside the mist that was 
slowly deepening into a shadow, not only over 
his home, but into a barrier between his heart 
and his wife’s. 

But I will not tarry over these domestic de- 
tails, which I felt were out of my province to 
interfere with, except as I could help both 
Harry and Edith to a firm grasp of the Truth 
that solves all difficulties, be they great or 
small. My first serious conversation with 
Harry told me, in his desire to formulate a 
religion of the human heart, for the time being, 
he had striven to banish Bertie’s influence. 
I found him in warm sympathy with “the 
subjective spirit of the age, which insists on 
looking at truth, not as it is in itself, in its 
utter independence of the mind of man, but 


242 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

as it presents itself to man’s mind, or rather 
as man’s mind in very varying moods appre- 
hends it. This spirit, while it has weakened 
the public hold upon creeds and Scripture, 
has directed attention with an intensity un- 
known before our day, to the needs of the 
human mind, and among them to the superior 
need of a religion.” 

The consciousness of this need had roused 
Harry to work among the masses in the crowded 
wards of the city, where he strove as a dis- 
ciple of humanity, with all his young energy 
to develop the truth that real manhood con- 
sists in independence of spirit. In enforce- 
ment of this principle in dealing with the 
lower classes he did not endeavor to win them 
by scattering shillings, and giving out soup- 
tickets, but he sought to lift them up to the 
higher level of honest work, for honest pay. 
And yet when Harry gave he did it royally, 
and of the sick he took the tenderest care. 
He was on the watch, also, for every sign of 
hopeful moral reform, and ready to help it 
with cheer and support. I was deeply inter- 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 243 

ested in his efforts, and yet I could but tell 
him the doctrine of self-help was but one- 
sided, unless united to the truth God working 
f;/, to will and to do, and man working out. 
And this requires that we universalize the 
God-man, as well as particularize Him, for 
work to be successful demands the recognition 
of both elements. But though Harry and I 
differed, we did not jar one another. I am 
too much in sympathy with his earnestness of 
purpose for that, and I have lived long enough 
to have a clear perception that while in the 
practical every-dayness of life the power of 
seeing alike, in one sense, is a rare and valu- 
able gift, — or shall I call it a grace ? — in spir- 
itual matters the power of seeing difference is 
no less valuable. Still I felt it a grave thing 
that Harry limited work to what man, unaided 
by a strength higher than his own, can accom- 
plish ; for my stronghold amid the circum- 
stances of life which require readjustment is 
centred in my conviction of the reality of 
that divine and human life which is made 
known in Christ — in His sufferings and in His 


244 driftings from mid-ocean, 

triumphs, and which alone can solve the enig- 
mas of existence. Harry Griffin’s efforts to 
aid the poor reminded me of one of the ques- 
tions grandpapa bade me answer in this, my 
latter-day journal. He did not doubt that 
this is an age of active Christianity, but his 
query went beyond the spirit of universal 
philanthropy which rules, and bade me define 
whether the essence of that spirit is love to- 
ward others for Christ’s sake, the sentiment of 
religion, or the zest of working out individual 
theories regarding political economy and the 
elevation of the masses ; for while all of these 
efforts yield full, rich growths of results, ben- 
eficial to mankind, yet, except the first, they 
lack the vigor of spiritual health. I remember 
hearing grandpapa touch upon this subject in 
the discussion of the modern tendency to 
bring to perfection schools of reform and dis- 
ciplinary institutions, rather than to strive to 
prevent the need of these multiplying chari- 
ties by helping the tempted and morally weak 
to keep from falling, and thus requiring re- 
straint and punishment. 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 245 

Dear grandpapa, how tenderly he thought 
of health of soul, much as he did of health of 
body, hence prevention filled a much larger 
place in his mind than cure. Truly his daily 
prayer was, “ Deliver us from evil.” 

To return to Harry; in defense of his posi- 
tion, he insisted on errors of fact and of mor- 
als, which he held to be discernible in the 
Bible ; but this in no way lessened his eager- 
ness to enforce a zeal for what he termed the 
sublime issues of religion, which was “not 
bound,” as he phrased it, to “ the letter,” and 
which fires enthusiasm in renouncing the let- 
ter. “ As a natural result this led him to con- 
fuse mere questions of exegetical or scientific 
learning with the deep, profound lessons the 
Bible and the Bible only can teach. And so 
he had entered on what Goethe calls ‘the 
deepest subject in the history of the world, 
and of mankind, and that to which all others 
are subordinate — the conflict between faith 
and unbelief’; — and he encased himself with 
the negations and criticisms which rule, espe- 
cially 'among a certain class of the educated 


246 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

nowadays, to their unspeakable loss, and 
which suggest questions that revolve around 
* What God is not ; what Christ is not ; what 
the atonement and work of Christ is not ; 
what prayer is not ; what sacraments are not,’ 
rather than dealing with the only questions of 
practical importance, ‘ What God, Christ, the 
atonement, prayer, and the sacraments are' ” 

Immediately after Bertie’s departure, Harry 
had passed beyond this purely moral and in- 
tellectual interest in religion, and then, his 
soul cried out for a belief that spoke not only 
to his intellect, but to his heart and will. He 
could not rest upon the most unimpeachable 
abstractions. He needed something more 
than the truest philosophy. He yearned to 
come in contact with a Heart. But when 
Madie’s influence took hold upon his mind he 
cut himself loose from the anchorage of belief 
in the Bible, and shut the door of entrance 
into relations with the Heart of the Infinite 
Creator, and Christ Jesus our Lord. 

This was his spiritual condition when I 
bade him farewell, and I could only seek 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


247 


refuge for my anxiety in the comfort I had 
found when he parted from me at Rome — I 
mean the fact, that he recognized his peril, 
and thus war with self had begun ; I knew too, 
that God is merciful, Christ pitiful, and 

“ Who shall say ‘ Nay ’ when Christ pleads all He is 

For us, and holds us with a wounded Hand ?” 

In parting from Edith I had great hope, for a 
simple faith in God as a Father I felt sure was 
slowly unfolding in her heart. She was so 
much less artificial in her definitions of re- 
ligion I knew she had caught an inlook, re- 
vealing the true, broad principles of real 
Christian unity, and the truth that faith can 
find expression by different creeds and forms 
of worship, because all Christians draw from 
the same Well, and drink from the same Foun- 
tain, of Living Waters. Thus she, like Harry, 
will learn by different teaching that joy, and 
woe, and hope, and fear, 

“ Is just our chance o’er the page of learning love, 

How love might be, hath been, and is.” 


V. 


HAT Madie Leigh felt when she 



V V found her efforts to win Harry had 
proved unsuccessful, I have no means of know- 
ing. But from that hour she entered on a 
career, which Mrs. Howland called a. brill- 
iant success.” And even before I embarked 
on my return voyage I heard of her engage- 
ment to Sir Guy Campbell, an Englishman, 
whom she had captivated by her winsome 
ways, bright conversation, and rare grace and 
beauty of person. 

On my arrival Milicent met me at Liver- 
pool. It was the middle of the lovely season 
of the year, and as we passed along in the 
train many thoughts haunted me, and my 
mind was full of the fleetingness of life here 
and the need of a resting-place in God. It 


(248) 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 249 

was a calm evening ; the sky, a golden orange 
glow in the west, dotted over with small, 
white fleecy clouds, while to the east the 
heavy, dark banks of cloud that rested on the 
hill-tops were interlined with deep shades of 
crimson and orange. In truth, all Nature 
seemed whispering of the comfort promised 
sorrowing hearts in the words, “ As one whom 
his mother comforteth, so will I comfort you, 
saith the Lord, and ye shall be comforted.” 
Think ! What a rich, tender, full, and loving 
assurance it is — “ Ye shall be comforted,” and 
it comes from the Comforter, who is‘‘ able to do 
exceeding abundantly, above all that we can 
ask or think.” And yet how boundless thought 
is! and how limitless our power of asking! 
Nevertheless, God’s comfort reaches still far- 
ther. It was clear-blue night when at last 
we reached Cliff House, a few of the greater 
stars were out, and the moon was just rising. 
My arrival was a veritable home-coming, and 
Alice in her gladness opened wide the shy re- 
cesses of her heart that she is wont to keep so 
closely veiled, and in an hour I learned more 


250 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

of the broad visions of her earnest soul and 
of her fine character than I had in well-nigh a 
year’s previous intercourse. Milicent has 
proved a most helpful companion to Alice. 
She possesses a large supply of common sense, 
and is free from prejudice ; and while by taste 
and temperament she is artistic, she is not 
visionary or romantic. She sees with her 
bodily eyes only, and the blue sky overhead 
is the blue sky to her and nothing more. Like 
most English girls, she has not been trained 
to the independence of thought which marks 
American maidens, and her soul is girt about 
with a strong, abiding faith in the Unseen 
that is not troubled by speculative questions 
on religious subjects ; she is satisfied to trust 
when she cannot understand. She has, too, a 
great fear of offending God, and her heart is 
very humble and reverent in her love for 
Him. Alice calls her an Old Testament be- 
liever, for she is like the women of Israel to 
whom it never occurred to question the Law 
of Moses or the wisdom of Solomon. She 
and Alice spent the mid-summer holidays 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 25 1 

among the Highlands, and thus it happened 
Alice did not meet Mr. Sterling when he 
came for his annual visit to Lady Ann. And 
now it is time for him to come again, for the 
months following my return were so quiet 
and uneventful almost a year has gone by 
since I last wrote in my diary. 


VI. 


LICE so shrinks from hearing Mr. Ster- 



ling’s name, I was surprised the day 
before he was expected by her asking Milicent 
to describe him, which she did, picturing a 
man between thirty-five and forty, but looking 
more. In figure tall, but with a slight stoop, 
and shoulders sufficiently rounded to indicate 
that his early habits had been those of a 
scholar; his face, Milicent said, hinted the 
same story, his eyes being slightly sunken, 
while there were deep lines about his fore- 
head and mouth that told of sharp mental 
struggle. And then she described his busy 
life, and how near and dear to him were the 
interests of his parish, even though they 
brought him into contact with scenes which 
were so unlike the peaceful atmosphere encom- 
passing Cliff House, by contrast, its serene 
repose must seem almost like stepping from 


(252) 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 253 

earth to Heaven. In her desire to avoid Mr. 
Sterling Alice had again planned to be absent 
during his stay with Lady Ann, but a month 
before the time for his visit she had been sud- 
denly prostrated by what the village doctor 
called “ low fever.” She was only just con- 
valescing when Ralph Sterling came, and so 
his personal acquaintance with Alice Fraser 
began through rendering her kindness. For 
his strong arm thought nothing of wheeling 
her invalid chair over the lawn and down the 
path to the sheltered cove at the end of the 
old-fashioned garden. Flowers grew in that 
garden in a bewildering confusion of beauty, 
while their fragrance blended with the per- 
fume of clover and sweet grass, mingled with 
the salt odor of sea-weed and sea-breezes, that 
went singing on their way inland, as though 
their only mission were to kiss the golden 
grains, the grassy banks and meadows, shin- 
ing with the glow of yellow daisies, and ra- 
diant with the scarlet of the poppies in among 
the corn. I felt sorry that Mr. Sterling’s first 
sight of Alice was of a pale maiden whose 


254 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN 

beauty for a time is sadly eclipsed, at least to 
my health-loving eyes. And yet the moment 
he saw her he felt a sudden beating of his 
heart and quickening of his pulse that made 
him determine to win her back to health, 
strength, and happiness, if there was any 
power in him to do it. And Ralph Sterling 
is not a man who distrusts his own powers, 
for while he thinks very little of himself, the 
fact that he is thoroughly sincere, straight- 
forward, and good, is apt to give him ascend- 
ency over others ; he has great patience also, 
and this is needed. Meanwhile he does not 
press himself forward. 

Another pause in my journal comes now — 
a space that covers two years, during which 
Ralph Sterling and Alice made but slight ad- 
vance toward friendship. She had regained 
her physical strength,' and she struggled 
bravely to attain cheerfulness, and enough of 
victory crowns her efforts for new interests to 
begin to spring up in her life. But in the 
struggle she has lost the fresh bloom of 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 255 

youth, and I grieve over that, for to a middle- 
aged woman like myself the premature loss 
of youth always seems a cause for regret. 
Then, too, I am not keen and far-sighted like 
Lady Ann, and it is hard for me to believe 
that out of Alice’s loss a sweeter, better, more 
abiding youngness of soul will blossom, but 
Lady Ann says it will. 

Again a long pause, which brings me to the 
day when at last Alice knew of Mr. Sterling’s 
love. It hurt her at first, then a great pity 
filled her gentle heart. Still she frankly told 
him she had nothing to give in return for all 
he offered her. 

“ My heart was killed, it is dead,” she said, 
— and so his first pleading ended, and he re- 
turned to work among the poor and suffering 
of his parish. 


VII. 


BRIGHT, beautiful bit of life’s most 



precious gladness has just come to me 
— a letter from Harry Griffin, which tells, that 
while he and Edith will always remember the 
first years of their married life vividly, as mar- 
iners remember a night of peril on the sea, 
they will also remember, that out of that time 
of storm. Light broke forth as the morning, 
and the Sun of Righteousness arose with heal- 
ing in His wings. 

For God has sent a child to their home and 
hearts, and with the advent of that little life, 
the sweet story, old, yet ever new, has been 
lived over again by Harry and Edith. And 
Harry has learned that where speculations 
had misled, science failed, philosophy proved 
empty, a little child could lead, and that a 
baby’s smile could suddenly unveil the face 
of God. A minute bounded this experience, 


(256) 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 257 

and yet it held the Light and Life of Eter- 
nity. 

That supreme moment came to Harry, as 
he bent to kiss Edith’s pale brow, as she lifted 
her weak little hand to stroke his cheek with 
a wife’s loving tenderness, while softly she 

whispered : Baby’s father.” Those words 

were a flash of light to Harry’s soul, and be- 
fore them, doubts and speculations rolled 
away from his mind swiftly as mist lifts its 
shadows and steals away before the beams of 
morning sunshine. They did what reason and 
study had failed to do, and he grasped the 
wonderful analogy between our relations to 
God, and the human relations of a father to 
a child, a child to a father; and from that 
hour religion became to Harry Griffln a per- 
sonal relation — the relation of person to Per- 
son.” — And he saw that Faith, however 
different in its nature from logical certainty, 
has yet its own sufficient evidence, and in 
sensibility to this evidence mainly consists 
spiritual discernment as distinguished from 
intellectual clearness.” 


258 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN, 

Thus it was that another and happier page 
was turned for Harry and Edith, even before 
the hours of their child’s life counted a full day. 

Later on, Edith sent me a letter, telling 
how there came a calm summer hour, when 
as twilight was beginning to deepen, they 
watched their sleeping child. Watched while 
stars came out in the sky, and lights began to 
shine in home windows. Minutes flew by as 
though winged. Harry and Edith spoke softly 
to one another, and their speech was of the 
little soul entrusted to them — an immortal 
soul. — Yes, Harry believed in immortality 
now. — And then their hopes were too dear 
for words, and they held each other’s hands, 
and were still, and the baby slept, and the 
stars looked down, the moon rose, and in the 
silence there dawned something dearer, more 
sacred even than their hopes for the child, for 
their hearts, that had been so parted, had 
found one another again. — Oh, God is good. 
Life is worth living. — Just then the baby 
woke, blessed little child, not with a cry, but 
with a smile. 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 259 

That letter told me, too, that I had helped 
them to the knowledge of the Heavenly 
Fatherhood, — and now Harry and Edith’s 
Present is all joy, their Future all hope — and 
after earth comes Heaven. Meanwhile, 

“ Worship we the God-head, 

Love Incarnate, Love Divine, 

Worship we our Jesus — 

But wherewith for sacred sign ? 

Love shall be our token, 

Love be yours and love be mine. 

Love to God and all men. 

Love the universal sign.” 


VIII. 


ADY ANN has aged rapidly since we 



JLi came to Cliff House, and Alice has fallen 
into the habit of rendering her sweet, daugh- 
terly services. Thus it is to Alice she is 
wont to pass notes and letters that demand 
replies, with the exception of those received 
from Mr. Sterling. But toward the end of 
June there came a day when Lady Ann in- 
cluded a letter from him among those she 
asked Alice to read. 

Put it aside for the present,’* she said ; 
“ later on I will listen to it.” . 

There was excuse for this delay, in the fact 
that it was Rosemond season — the moon of 
Roses — and that meant to Lady Ann the 
time for observing the old custom of gathering 
roses for the ‘‘sweet-pots.” Alice and Mili- 
cent had been busy since sunrise, for the roses 
picked in the dewy freshness of the early day 


(260) 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 26 1 

were thought to be the ones freighted with 
the sweetest odors. 

I can never forget the details of that morn- 
ing, and the smile on Alice’s face as she tripped 
up the garden-walk with a light-hearted tread, 
such as she had not had since that day in 
Rome. She and Milicent carried between 
them a basket laden with their gleaning, and 
they had not spared high bush or low. 

Roses, who’ll buy our roses ? ” playfully 
Alice called, as she caught sight of Lady Ann, 
equipped with garden-gloves and scissors, and 
eager to begin her work. It consisted in strip- 
ping the fragrant leaves from branch and stem, 
while my part was spreading the sweet things 
on the drying-trays ready for them in the- 
southeast corner of the piazza. It was such 
a pretty picture, that aged lady in her high- 
backed chair, snow-white cap, and delicate 
kerchief. And Alice, standing by her side, 
unconscious of the sweet grace of her attitude. 
She had so much of her old-time look, it 
brought tears of gladness to my eyes to see 
once again the familiar lift of her head, the 


262 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

play of smiles about her mouth, and the shine 
of her eyes. Even in her movements she was 
again like the Alice who had wondered, that 
long-ago spring-time, what life’s dimensions 
would be. Her voice, too, had the same 
musical ring it had then ; for the echo of 
sadness which had come into it, sounded but 
faintly as she thrust her white hand into 
the ladened basket, — fearless of the thorns, — 
and drew forth rose after rose, shaking their 
stalks, and brushing the dew from them as 
she said : 

“ See, we have been 
Where the roses blow ; 

The ruby red and the maiden blush, 

And the damask rose in its velvet flush. 

And the white rose dripping snow.” 

With a quick change in her tone, that had 
in it something akin to the subtle spirit of 
the rose,” she added : 

“ Close compressed, 

Our Present holds our Future, like a rose 
That may not yet its soul unclose. 

Lest angry winds should scatter or molest.” 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID- OCEAN 263 

“ Oh, must there be more angry winds ? ” 
she murmured. And on the full-blown beauty 
of the rose she handed Lady Ann, there glis- 
tened a shining drop that was not dew. No, 
I am sure it was not. Yet when I looked 
from it to Alice, she was smiling in response 
to her old friend, who in her gentle way said : 
*^Dear child, why fear angry winds? Re- 
member 

“ ‘ God’s Spirit will fall on thee as dewdrops on a 
rose, 

If but like a rose to Him thy heart unclose.’ ” 

But I will not dwell on this scene. When 
the last leaf-laden tray had been carried to its 
sunshiny nook, I.ady Ann was tired,: and she 
leaned her head against the back of her cliair 
and closed her eyes, saying : “ I will rest while 
you read me Ralph Sterling's letter,” and 
Alice read commonplace words at first, it be- 
ing thus letters are wont to begin ; then came 
a page in which Mr. Sterling told of his weekly 
visit to the Manchester Hospital, and of the 
crowded wards, lined with the low white- 


264 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

spread cots, from which the pale, wan faces of 
suffering men looked forth to greet him as he 
passed, and then, — suddenly Alice’s voice fal- 
tered. — It was Milicent who read the after- 
part of that letter, — Milicent, to whom in one 
sense it meant as much as to Alice. Mr. Ster- 
ling wrote : “ As I was leaving the building a 
nurse hastened after me to say, a gentleman 
had been brought in at day-dawn, and that 
several times he had whispered my name. 
‘Will you go to him?’ she asked; ‘you will 
find him very low, but perfectly conscious.’ 
I followed Sister Agnes — the nurse in charge — 
to a private room, and in a moment I stood 
in the presence of Stephen Forbes. He had 
reached Manchester by the midnight express, 
and finding himself too weak for the long 
drive to the Manor House, which is a mile 
beyond the Carpet Works, he had given direc- 
tions to be taken to the hospital, where he 
was immediately recognized by the physician 
in attendance. Hours of unconsciousness fol- 
lowed his arrival, and then came a brief rally- 
ing and sufficient strength to tell Dr. Man- 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 265 

ning that his present condition was the result 
of a fever contracted while in Africa. He 
also said, when he realized the broken state 
of his health, he had started for home, intend- 
ing, after a few days in London, to sail for 
America. But his illness proved graver than 
he thought, and the journey he had expected 
to accomplish in a few months had taken 
many. When he reached England, he had 
only strength to make the last effort of his 
mortal life, and that was to seek the shelter 
of the Manchester Manor House, occupied, as 
he knew, by a cousin who had charge of the 

‘Works.’” Just here I put Mr. Sterling’s 

letter aside, while I tell the rest of the sad 
story as I gathered the details from Dr. Man- 
ning and Sister Agnes. The only wish Mr. 
Forbes expressed was to see Ralph Sterling, 
the Rector of St. Luke’s. Why he wanted 
to see him we cannot tell, for by the time Mr. 
Sterling reached him he had no strength to 
say what may have been in his mind. And 
yet, he lingered through the remaining hours 
pf the day and the night, and on till rnorning. 


266 DRIFTINGS FROM MTD-OCEANr. 

Once he whispered, Alice — Milicent.” — But 
no after-word followed to tell of repentance, 
or remorse, and the hours closed as they 

began in the darkness of unbelief. ^‘Too 

late” — ^‘too late,” — that was his low moan 
from midnight on to gray dawn. Quietness 
came then, unbroken, save by long-drawn 
breaths, and the low, soft plea.ding of Ralph 
Sterling’s voice, as he told the story of the 
prodigal’s return, and the Father’s compas- 
sion. Many a time before Mr. Sterling had 
knelt by dying men and repeated those words ; 
more than once he had known them to shine 
like a star in the darkness of despair, but not 
then. — No — it was too late. Stephen Forbes 
was reaping as he had sown ; he passed away 
as he had lived, without faith, without God. 

And yet, just before the end, there was 

a long-drawn sigh like a groan, there was a 
struggle for utterance, and surely the half- 
formed word was “ God.” 

At that moment day dawned, the sun rose, 
and a sunbeam fell aslant the dying man’s bed, 
and for a second — only a second — it rested on 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 267 

his forehead — the forehead a mother had 
kissed, for Stephen Forbes had been a child 
once, a happy, innocent child. 

Then the watchful nurse drew the curtain 
before the window, and the momentary light 
that had illumined the room was dimmed. Af- 
ter that there was no more effort to speak, no 
more return to consciousness — only God knew 

the end. And God is Love. Christ died, 

and rose again, we must leave it all with Him. 
— But as far as mortals can see, oh the black- 
ness, the darkness of the unbelief which held 
that dying man’s spirit a captive — and he him- 
self had forged the very chains which bound 
him, and their first links dated back, far as to 
the hour when he had yielded to his desire to 
taste of the fruit of the knowledge of evil ! 
Oh! the agony of that dying moan — ‘^Too 
late — too late.” 


IX. 


FTER hearing the end of Mr. Sterling’s 



letter, Alice soon regained her compos- 
ure, but though outwardly calm, the grief she 
felt because of the ruin of Stephen Forbes’ 
life for here, and for There ^ no words can tell. 
For while she trusted in the great tenderness of 
Infinite Love, she could not hide from herself, 
that a soul which had refused to believe in God 
while here on earth, was hardly likely to seek 
Him in the other world — even if such a search 
be possible. Her only hope centred around 
the one word God,” which Mr. Sterling felt 
sure he had heard, for Alice knew one word 
to the Father’s ear can hold many. — And she 
strove to remember also, all things are pos- 
sible ” to the Lord, and though He is a con- 
suming Fire, He is still a God of Love — how 
surely of Love — for God is Love. This was 
Alice Fraser’s comfort. 


(268) 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 269 

Alice had been for more than three years 
like a sister to Milicent, but never was her 
tenderness so complete as during that time, 
for Milicent also was sorely grief-stricken by 
the hopeless closing of Stephen Forbes* earth- 
ly life. 

For some months after the coming of this 
sorrow Alice kept up and about, just as she 
had at the time of her first bitter trial. But 
her soul was stronger than her body, and soon 
after I left her for my annual visit to my New 
England home she was suddenly prostrated, 
and Lady Ann wrote urging my immediate 
return. “ My white dove with broken wings,’* 
Lady Ann called her; ‘‘but they will heal,’* 
she added, “ she will soar again. The Lord is 
mindful of His own. He will not break the 
bruised reed.” — And He did not. 


X. 


OW the years fly ; almost before I knew 



J L it June came again, and the time for 

Mr. Sterling’s holiday. But he made no effort 
to press his suit this summer-time. He knew 
it was too soon after the sorrow Mr. Forbes’ 
desolate death had caused, for Alice to accept 
a thought of a new life, with the hope of hap- 
py years. And so he waited, and remembered 
winter has roses, as well as June — Christmas 
roses, and they have never a thorn ! 

It was eight weeks after the Christmas-tide 
when next he visited Cliff House. The sum- 
mer foliage, which when he left was in full 
beauty, had faded, but the Laurel and the 
Holly bushes were green, and the Holly 
boughs were tipped with scarlet berries, while 
the Black Thorn was covered with white buds, 
and in the hedgerows daisies were in bloom. In 
a sheltered nook I found, also, a tuft of violets 


(270) 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN, 27 1 

blossoming a month too soon ; brave little vio- 
lets — they looked like a patch of blue sky 
spotting the brown earth, through which here 
and there tender grass-blades were pushing 
their way. And though it was not Nature’s 
season for sweet secrets, though the trees had 
no young twigs, — the nests no young birds, 
there were nevertheless signs of promise in 
the balmy air. The leafless tree-boughs, too, 
were beginning to take on the different tintings 
born of the rising sap, and some were dark 
red, while others were yellow, and rich glow- 
ing brown. “ Earth is warming, the sea is 
singing, the sky is smiling,” Lady Ann said, 
and she added, “ Winter is well-nigh over and 
gone,” and her kindly eyes rested with a ten- 
der light in their glance on Alice. That was 
the day Mr. Sterling arrived. Only a little 
while before the time appointed for his com- 
ing Alice declared she felt strong enough to 
walk all by herself, as far as the Cliff seat, 
from which she could watch the sunset; it 
was the first effort of the kind she had made 
since June’s Rosemond,” of a year and a half 


2^2 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

before, but neither Lady Ann nor I said 
“ Nay.” Somehow I think we both felt Alice 
would not return alone, and she did not, for 
as the last sunbeam shone across the still wa- 
ters of the bay, Mr. Sterling joined her. And 
the time had come when he no longer could 
keep silent, no longer patient. For after all, 
though he was so noble, and so good, Ralph 
Sterling was a mortal man, and he loved Alice, 
and so he pleaded, and. she listened. — And 
again she made the same reply, again she told 
him her heart was dead. But still he pleaded, 
— and still she answered No.” — And then, 
the sun set ; and she arose passively from the 
garden-seat, and laid her hand on his strong 
arm. Yes, she let him guide her somewhat 
feeble steps back to the shelter of the Cliff 
House. As they entered the wide hall she 
paused for a moment, as though to catch her 
breath, and then softly, — so softly, only a 
lover could have heard the words, she whis- 
pered : “ Wait till to-morrow.” 

At the sound of that low whisper Ralph 
Sterling knew — he, a middle-aged man, whose 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 273 

hair about the temples was thickly sprinkled 
with gray ; he, the hard-working rector of a 
poor parish, in a noisy manufacturing town ; 
he, who had said good-bye to youth a dozen 
years before, had won the richest jewel ever a 
man had called his own. For there was 
never a woman’s heart more jewel-like in 
truth, purity, and goodness than Alice Fraser’s. 

The night that followed, Alice will never 
forget. She could not sleep, and there was 
not an hour in which she did not hear the lap- 
ping of the waves upon the shore and fhe 
throb of the open sea beyond. She saw the 
moon rise. She saw the tremulous quivering 
of its beams as they shone on the waves. 
She thought of her past, of the love which 
for a brief time had flooded her heart with a 
joy unclouded as sunshine. She remembered 
all the after-part of that joy, — no detail was 
forgotten ; and as she remembered, there was 
no bitterness in her mind, only infinite pity 
and infinite sorrow, as she thought how the 
soul of the man she loved went forth, — alone, 


274 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN, 

— into the darkness, the incomprehensibleness 
of death. And then, — as you know, women 
are not logical, — suddenly thought brought 
into the foreground the good, true heart that 
loved her now, asking for nothing in return — 
only pleading for a right to love and shield 
her. And — “ Why not grant his request ? 
she asked herself. “ Why not make him hap- 
py?” When morning came, Alice had de- 
cided. Yes, she would give all she had ; it 
could not be the bright, beautiful, satisfying 
love of her youth, but it was all she had, and 
that was all he asked. It was still early when 
she opened her window and looked down 
on the court and narrow strip of lawn that 
stretched like a carpet between the garden 
and the Cliff. Mr. Sterling was pacing slowly 
back and forth ; he was waiting as she had 
bidden, and softly she called, “ I am coming ! ” 

For a while after their meeting they were 
silent, looking toward the wide sea, and then 
up to the clear sky. Morning surrounded 
them in all the fresh beauty of its dawning. 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN, 275 

And Nature was like a mother that hour, so 
protective, so tender, so sweet was the air and 
the silence. 

Ralph Sterling has the simplest heart alive, 
and Alice is no less sincere and earnest ; thus 
they accepted their new relation to one an- 
other quietly and peacefully. When the 
spring came they were wedded. It was a 
May morning when we drove to the parish 
church, surrounded by scenery as sweetly 
English as that part of the country held. For 
the first mile or two we kept on the high- 
road, but then our way led through a lane where 
the hedgerows were all abloom with fragrant 
heather, and the bank-sides starred with prim- 
roses, cowslips, crimson-tipped daisies, king- 
cups, and violets. It was nearly noon when we 
reached the old Gothic church, which was cov- 
ered by a century’s growth of clinging ivy. It 
was a simple, solemn service, and then we drove 
home again through the flowery lanes. The 
next day Alice left us for the rectory located in 
the very centre of St. Luke’s crowded parish. 


276 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

“ Our work is there,” she said, for Alice 
was very truthful. She made no claim to 
great happiness, but she thought much of 
work; and she had only promised to give 
what she could. Had she not said her heart 

was dead? But was it? Mr. Sterling’s 

eyes, as Milicent had described them, were 
deep-set and somewhat sunken, but there was 
a flash in them as he bade me good-bye that 
answered “ No ” to that question. 

Meanwhile he waited, and in the stronghold 
of his heart there was great content. 

Ralph Sterling’s waiting-time has not been 
very long, for I wrote that last page in June, 
and now it is only September, yet yesterday 
Alice told me her dead heart was alive again, 
and that she loved her husband with a calm 
peace, a great trust, and clinging confidence, 
dearer and more blessed than ever the young 
joy had been. 


XL 


F all the characters portrayed in this 



record Frank Howland’s is the one that 
interests me least. And yet I will not pass 
him by without devoting a few pages to his 
history, during the years that intervened be- 
tween his leaving Rome and the present date. 
And first I must state that Frank’s spirit is 
now, as it was in the days of his young man- 
hood, bounded by a narrow sectarian outlook. 
Until by his own free will he emancipates 
himself from this, he will continue to be 
perplexed by the miserable stumbling-block 
creeds become, when they are exalted into 
the place which belongs to faith and love. It 
is strange how often men like Frank, with in- 
telligent, open minds, on other subjects, will 
shut the eye of their souls against the truth 
that there really exists among Christian creeds 


(277) 


278 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

very little disagreement regarding the funda- 
mental truths of Christianity. It is also 
strange how they forget, even where creeds 
differ most widely, faith is as much one, as 
love, and there is but one way to love, and 
one way to have faith. As long, then, as 
Christ’s command is, Believe on Me^' there 
can be but one way of doing it. Meanwhile 
the fact that rituals differ need cause no more 
disturbance in faith, than that languages 
differ. But enough of this ; my object is not 
theological discussion, but simply to tell you 
of Frank Howland. 

What would I say if my object were theo- 
logical discussion ? — I would remind you that 
“ if it had been told us by what detail of 
action we were to serve God, if authoritative 
guidance was so full, that the inward prompt- 
ing never was required and so never at fault, 
there then could be no life in ourselves, and 
though we might obey resolutions, and cherish 
rules, as a servant obeys orders, we never 
could become the children of our Father’s 
Spirit.” I would remind you also that Top- 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 279 

lady disagreed with Wesley on many a theo- 
logical question — but is not the faith that 
wrote “ Rock of Ages/’ the same faith as that 
which finds expression in Jesus, Lover of my 
Soul ” ? I would bid you remember too, “ the 
outward forms of Christianity have no rigid 
authoritative ritual, but find a vehicle and a 
passage for its spirit in whatever mode of 
worship is natural to each nation and each 
sect. The glory it reveals is only faintly em- 
blemed in the vast Cathedral, and can make 
the humblest home of Prayer the presence- 
chamber of the Almighty. Our Lord’s prin- 
ciple holds universally of religious institutions 
and creeds, that ‘ the Sabbath was made for 
man, not man for the Sabbath.’ And if we 
live to the Spirit, we are no longer under the 
Law. Here again Christianity appears in its 
universal character, saying of every man who 
has life in himself, * Loose him and let him 
go,’ but compelling no man to walk alone 
who needs the sympathy and shelter of a 
church with forms and helps for those who 
require them, but laying no yoke or burden 


28 o driftings from mid-ocean. 

upon those who find them impediments, not 
aids to their inward life. In all such things 
we must have entire respect for individual 
liberty, sincerity, and truth ; nothing can be 
more unscriptural, a more direct heresy against 
Christ, than to estimate the communion of a 
man’s soul with God by his observance of 
modes, and times of worship that seem nat- 
ural to us.” 

This is all a wide wandering from Frank 
Howland, and as I resume his story, I must 
preface it by telling you, I made a great mis- 
take in supposing that Madie was dearer to 
him than an ordinary friend, for whatever of 
sentiment was wakened in his heart during 
the days of our touring together, all centred 
on Alice. It was this emotion which brought 
him to Cliff House the second summer of our 
stay there. What passed between him and 
Alice I do not know in detail, but I do know 
there was no delay in her enforcement of the 
fact, that she could never marry him. Frank 
was too self-satisfied to detect that Alice’s re- 
fusal had anything personal in it, he merely 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 28 1 

thought it was caused by her clinging, in a 
certain way, to her love for Stephen Forbes, 
and almost immediately he regained his self- 
complacency and self-assurance. He was 
greatly attracted also by Milicent, and I con- 
fess, while I am not over-fond of him, he was 
noble and manly in his intercourse with this 
gentle English girl, and he had little difficulty 
in winning her affection, for the very best of 
him was touched by her ; he appreciated her 
steadfast adherence to principle ; he was very 
tender too, and he would not let her tell him 
the details of the bitter, dark years of her life. 
There was nothing to hinder their speedy 
marriage, and a week after Alice left the Cliff 
House to assume the duties of a Rector’s wife, 
Frank and Milicent sailed away over the blue 
waters of the wide Atlantic. And now I 
think of them as happy in their far Western 
home; for Milicent parted from us with a 
smile, though there were tears in her eyes. 
And I knew, though she had known so much 
of early sorrow, she had caught at last the 
first notes of the after-gladness which has al- 


282 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

ready taught her, how much the happy days 
of life outweigh the sorrowful.” 

There is no doubt she is the very wife to 
make Frank Howland happy. The fact that 
she knows little of theology, and a mere noth- 
ing of science, while metaphysics is a sealed 
book to her which she makes no effort to 
open, adds to her adaptability to Frank’s re- 
quirements, and truly I believe her gentle 
spirit will in time lead him to look beyond 
systems, while her earnest Christian life will 
be more powerful than argument, and he will 
pass out of his present narrowness, into the 
open pasture-land where Christ, and not creed, 
will illumine his spiritual horizon. 


XII. 


LOSE following Alice Fraser’s wedding- 



day I was summoned to Madie Leigh’s 
home. It is a rare old place. The mansion, 
which is principally of granite, was erected 
early in the reign of Henry the Seventh ; and 
its external architecture partakes of the min- 
gled character of the old manor house and 
the feudal castle. The entrance is through a 
moonstone archway, which leads into a small 
quadrangular court, adjacent to which, on the 
north side, is a large square tower, which in- 
cludes the principal rooms. Access to these 
rooms is obtained through the hall, which 
affords unfailing zest for a lover of antiquity. 
In the windows of painted glass are various 
emblazonments of the arms of the Campbell 
family and its alliances. Suits of armor also, 
both plate and mail, are hung against the 
wall with arquebuses, halberds, bows and ar- 


(283) 


284 driftings from mid-ocean. 

rows, and swords, while at the south end 
stands the figure of an ancient warrior armed 
cap-h-pie. Some immense branching stag- 
horns, elephant’s tusks, and an antelope’s 
head are likewise preserved here. The prin- 
cipal apartments on the lower floor are hung 
with faded tapestry, and the furniture corre- 
sponds with the domestic style of the olden 
times. There are, too, among the antique 
vestiges, several rudely carved ebony chairs, 
some immense brass fire-dogs, and numerous 
drinking-vessels of glass and silver; but the 
errand that brought me to Campbell Hall 
dimmed all thoughts of its grandeur. Before 
I tell you of it I must turn a backward page 
and record, whatever had been Sir Guy Camp- 
bell’s disappointment in Madie he bravely 
concealed. And the old saying, ^‘An E-ng- 
lishman’s house is his castle,” comprises his 
heart and its secrets, hence I have no right to 
invade it. Outwardly his beautiful young wife 
reigned a queen in society, and however much 
of the sham of seeming may have been re- 
quired to make life appear a joy, there was 


DRIFTINGS FROM MI 3 - 0 CEAN 285 

one happiness that demanded no seeming, and 
that was love for their child. He was well 
fitted to fill his parents’ hearts with joy and 
pride ; he was the bravest little lad I ever 
knew. A princely boy, in whom there cen- 
tred the dignity of by-gone generations of 
high-born men and women. Little Guy loved 
his beautiful mother with a devotion only 
equalled by that he felt for the stern, silent 
man, his father, who to him was all tender- 
ness. It was Madie’s custom to spend the 
hour between daylight and dark with her 
child. It was her leisure time, when there 
was a lull in her pleasure-seeking, too early to 
dress for dinner and too late for afternoon 
tea. During those twilight hours Guy’s hap- 
piness was complete if his mother would sing 
to him, for music was the delight of his soul. 
And in song Madie always had a voice sweet 
and tender, with the sound of a heart-beat in 
it, and it was never sweeter than when she 
sang the simple ballads the child loved so 
well. But alas ! the day before I entered that 
stately home there had come an hour when 


286 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

little Guy’s plea for ^^one song, just one,” was 
refused, for Madie was too absorbed to even 
heed her boy. The simple truth was, she had 
come to a question-place where grave issues 
were involved, for she had no mind to let her 
desire for admiration gain proportions which 
it would be difficult to control, and as she 
pondered on ways and means by which she 
could extricate herself from a foolish entan- 
glement, she became, as I said, indifferent to 
little Guy. And though he was not an impa- 
tient, demanding child, he asked over and 
over again, “ Please, mamma, one song, just 
one.” But he asked in vain. The later hours 
of that day, or rather night, were spent by 
Madie at a dinner-party, followed by a gay 
ball, from which she did not return till near 
morning. Her social success had been brill- 
iant, and though her vivacity had given place 
to languor as she alighted from her carriage 
and entered her home, she was still a spark- 
lingly beautiful woman, and her husband, 
who met her on the landing of the wide stair- 
way, noted it. It was an unusual occurrence 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN 28 / 

for Sir Guy Campbell to be thus on the watch for 
his wife’s return ; neither was he wont to meet 
her, as he did then, with a tenderness rarely man- 
ifested except in his intercourse with the boy. 
It startled Madie and wakened a sudden fear. 

“ What is it ? ” she asked, in a voice that 
trembled with nameless dread. Before Sir 
Guy had time to answer she had darted from 
him and sped without a pause to the bedside 
of her child. But she was too late ; the boy’s 
eyes were closed — it was all over. — Never 
again would she hear the sweet child-voice 
pleading, “ One song, just one, mamma 
never again would she feel the warm clasp of 
his little arms ; never again would the golden, 
curly head rest on her shoulder and the little 
form nestle in her lap ; never again would the 
dimpled hand smooth her soft cheek in loving 
caress. She was too late. 

What caused the sudden death of a lad 
strong as the boy Guy Campbell? — One of 
those sudden attacks of croup, that with a 
child in the full vigor of health often prove 
fatal in a few hours. 


288 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

Sir Guy sent for me immediately. Happily 
I was in England with Alice, staying in Man- 
chester, and by nightfall of the day following 
the boy’s death I was with Madie. But what 
comfort could I give? As one effort after 
another failed, I turned to the memories of 
her youth ; surely there I could find some- 
thing to soothe her passionate grief ! I spoke 
of Bertie, of his guileless life and peaceful 
departure. I tried to waken her imagina- 
tion to some- thought of his meeting her little 
lad. But she had filled her soul with earthly 
imaginations ; she had no room left for 
thoughts of Heaven. I spoke of Christ, the 
tender Shepherd who carries the lambs in His 
bosom, but my words held no meaning for 
her, for Madie had no faith, and she stood in 
the presence of mortal death with no hope in 
Immortal Life. — And of all heart-rending an- 
guish, surely such hopelessness is the climax. 

It was toward the close of a day of summer 
sweetness when they carried little Guy’s still 
form from the stately home of his forefathers 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 289 

to the no less stately tomb in the village 
churchyard. The sun was setting, not in 
royal splendor, but in a haze of tender light 
which bathed the green fields with a soft 
lustre that whispered of hope and comfort. 
But no voice of soothing spoke to Madie. It 
had been long delayed, but she was suffering 
the penalty of her eager search after the 
speculative, faith-destroying arguments with 
which she had striven years before to startle 
Harry Griffin into admiration of her alert 
mind. And thus in her hour of need the 
Truth, that has been a strong refuge for the 
sorrowful ever since our Lord said, “ I am the 
Resurrection and the Life,” came to her, 
empty and cold. 

When I left her, two weeks later, there was 
no lifting of this darkness of unbelief, and no 
abatement of her passionate grief. Neverthe- 
less before the leaves — that were in full beauty 
when the boy was taken — had put on the so- 
ber tinting of an English autumn, I heard of 
Madie as seeking forgetfulness by an eager 
pursuit of the diversions so falsely called 


290 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

pleasure. I say falsely, for pleasure as God 
made it, is innocent as the smile of a child, 
and sweet as the fragrance of a rose, and finds 
expression in the quickening of the mind for 
earnest thought and brave deed. This is all 
unlike the perverted thing men and women 
call pleasure, in their rush after excitement, 
and mirth, that echoes to the hollow laughter 
that strives to banish the recollection of life’s 
blessed purpose. And alas, it was to such di- 
version Madie turned as she went from one 
festive scene to the next, with hardly a pause 
between, and she found each more empty 
than its forerunner, and more powerless to 
feed the hunger of her heart. — And yet, she 

said they helped her to forget. But did 

they? 


XIII. 


I N a fashionable woman’s life the months 
tell much the same story, save for the 
slight variety different seasons afford for dif- 
ferent amusements. Hence time sped on 
with Madie, marked by nothing that claims 
especial note, till the early autumn of the 
year just ended. For it is now three months 
since the accident of which I will tell oc- 
curred. It was self-will and self - pleasing 
which led to that accident, just as they had 
led to the eclipse of faith in her soul, and to 
indifference to the plea of her child, and all 
the bitter remorse that had followed, when it 
was too late to grant the little lad’s request. 
But there is no need for me to point the 
moral of her life, — it is all too evident, and 
my object is to give you the details of her 
story. To do this I must picture her in the 
position and costume in which she appear- 
ed to the best advantage. For while she 

(291) 


292 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

had not been trained to an English woman’s 
perfect control of bit and bridle,” she was a 
fearless, graceful rider, and Sir Guy Campbell 
never beheld her equipped for a canter or gal- 
lop, or for following the hounds, without a 
thrill of pride in her grace and beauty. In 
fact Madie and her husband were nearer in 
sympathy at such times than at any other. 
For she shared his admiration for a fine steed, 
while she felt almost a friendship for her fa- 
vorite palfrey, Geraldine, who always seemed 
conscious of the fair burden she carried. Then 
too, with the free open sky above, and the 
sweet country surrounding them, Madie was 
wont to seem more like the woman Sir Guy 
had thought her, when he won and wed her 
for his bride. This was peculiarly so the day 
I am describing. All the morning they rode 
side by side over the hills, and across the val- 
leys, and through the .woods and shady lanes, 
and in among the fields yellow with the 
ripening grain, and then off, and away, over 
the moorlands, as they followed the lead of 
the baying hounds. 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


293 


I am so glad Sir Guy had that bright 
morning with Madie, she was, too, so pecul- 
iarly lovely in appearance that day, and he 
loved her beauty ; I have been told by more 
than one, that she was like some queen of a 
fairy realm. The plumed hat she wore was 
of deep blue, matching her velvet vest, and 
the flowing skirt of her habit. And so light- 
ly the plumes waved above her golden hair, 
verily she looked crowned, while the jewelled 
whip she carried served as sceptre, and the 
jewelled belt that spanned her slender waist as 
a girdle. There was a loving softness in her 
eyes too, — this Sir Guy told me, — that had 
. gone out when her boy died, and not returnecl 
till that day ; the bloom also, which had faded, 
flushed her cheeks again, with their aforetime 
rosy color, that was delicate as the tinting of 
a sea-shell. She had never lost the pliant 
grace and easy movement of her early youth, 
and she held herself with so steady a poise, it 
was like the rhythmic ring of a song, in its 
perfect harmony with the motion of the swift- 
footed steed she rode. And all the morning. 


294 driftings from MID-OCEAN. 

as I said, she kept close to her husband, — all 
the morning the birds sang, the insects hum- 
med, there was not a cloud in the sky — it was 

sunshine—all sunshine. But morning and 

evening sometimes tell such different stories, 
— they did that day. 

It was a bold, reckless leap to which Madie 
urged her already restive horse, and yet, she 
heard her husband’s voice of warning, and the 
cautioning cry of the groom. But Madie was 
not wont to heed her husband. Why do it 
now? and what cared she for the groom’s 
caution, — she, who did not know what fear 
meant ? — She was highly excited too, the stir 
of the hunt, the sound of the hounds, the 
mingling of many voices, the flash of vivid 
color, and the crisp breezy air, had all taken 
possession of her, even as early as when the 
hunt assembled ; and as the day advanced, the 
thrill of vanity and consciousness of her own 
beauty and leadership had augmented her ex- 
citement. And now, was she to be restrained 
and held back from final victory, by a swollen 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN 295 

brooklet, that had overflowed the flowery- 
bank ? No, no, indeed ; and with a gay laugh 
and merry backward glance toward her hus- 
band, “ Forward,” she urged, — and then the 
leap, — a sharp cry, — and then, — silence. 

Quicker than words can tell, Guy Campbell 
spurred his panting steed, and followed that 
fatal plunge. But with the instinct of a 
trained hunter, the powerful animal he rode 
knew the spot on that shelving bank where 
danger lurked, and with safety he took the 
leap, and found firm footing on the opposite 
bank. Sir Guy was the first to reach Madie, 
and he was the one who lifted her prostrate 
form, and smoothed the golden hair back 
from the bruised, bleeding forehead, — and 
then, help came. I cannot tell you the de- 
tails, it is all too sad. 

Again Sir Guy sent for me to come to 
Madie, as he had when the boy died. He 
summoned her father and mother also, and 
they were with us as quickly as travellers ever 
crossed the wide ocean. 


296 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

And now, all that medical skill can do, 
has been done. Physicians have come from 
London and Paris, — but it is all of no avail, 
there is no hiding the truth, Madie’s earthly 
life, whether it be long or short, must always 
be the life of a helpless invalid. Spring will 
come with its blossoms and tender showers ; 
summer with its flowers and singing birds ; 
autumn with its ripened fruits and harvest 
home ; winter with its white feathery snow- 
fall and silvery frosting on twig and grass- 
blade; but no change of season will bring 
strength and vigor to Madie. 

There were tears in the physician’s eyes 
when he told Sir Guy Campbell this, and yet 
he was used to suffering — but oh, that blight- 
ed life ! — oh, the pity of it ! — Never to be 
well again. 

We did not tell Madie, but she knew, and 
over and over she murmured, Never — never.” 
— It was like the cry of a child who refused 
to be comforted. Even her mother was power- 
less to soothe her. Never, never,” it con- 
tinued her moan by day, and her moan by 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN, 297 

night. “ Will despair be the end ? ” Thus 
Sir Guy Campbell asked on the New-Year 
morning which dawned yesterday. We were 
standing outside the heavy curtain of richest 
damask that hung before the arched doorway 
that led into Madie’s darkened room. She 
caught no sound of our approaching steps, 
for every foot-fall was hushed by rugs and 
soft carpets. Neither could she hear the low 
voice in which her husband asked that ques- 
tion. But though Madie did not hear us, we 
heard that incessant moan, “ Never, never’’— 
and then we heard a murmur that was not a 
moan. Sir Guy Campbell is a strong man, 
but at that sound a sudden trembling shook 
his powerful frame, he rested his hand on my 
shoulder for support. I never knew till then 
how he loved his wife — wilful, wayward, petu- 
lant Madie. Hark,” he whispered. Yes, she 
was speaking, but it was not to her mother, 
not to the nurse, not to the physician. Could 
it be that Madie was speaking to God? 

Lord, help me.” — Surely we heard aright, — 
and then silence, — and then a great sob, fol- 


298 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 

lowed by the words, “ help me to believe.” — 
Silence again — breathlessly we waited. Eager- 
ly we listened for the one Word, without 
which that plea was wingless ; but the silence 
continued, the seconds counted minutes, only 
God knew the struggle those minutes held for 
Madie ; only God knew what it cost her self- 
willed heart to say, “ Thy will be done.” But 
she did say it — and then, again a great sob, 
and the blessed whisper, “ for Christ’s sake.” 

At the utterance of that name. Sir Guy 

Campbell knew, and I knew, Madie’s prayer 
had flown Up, above the mists of unbelief, 
sorrow, and sin. — Up — even to the Heart of 
the great Father, who pities like a father, and 
we knew the Name of her God, that for so 
many years had been self-will, had vanished 
before the Christ-taught petition, “ Thy will, 
not mine.” And henceforth she would know 
God by the “ Our Father” title. 

What the future will bring, how Madie 
will endure the strain of long years, if tested 
by their discipline, I cannot tell ; but when I 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 299 

left her yesterday, it was all peace. Her 
hand, so weak, so white, like a broken lily- 
bud, was resting in her husband’s strong hand- 
clasp, and her soul was resting in the safe en- 
folding of the Everlasting Arms. 

And Madie, — as I said the very hour of our 
meeting long years ago — is a creature who pos- 
sesses great possibilities for good. — And God 
loves her — and she has yielded her will to His. 
— She calls Him Father. — And there have 
been women powerless to move so much as a 
limb, who for Christ’s sake, and by Christ’s 
help, have accomplished works of mercy, and 
out of their own weakness and suffering have 
reached out comfort and strength for others. 
Yes — sometimes, so infinite is God’s tender- 
ness, the pitcher broken at the wheel is the 
very one He causes to overflow with the 
sweet waters of healing and the blessed waters 
of love. 

And remember, 

“Youth shows but half; trust God; see all, nor be 
afraid ! 

Then, welcome each rebuff 


300 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


That turns Earth’s smoothness rough, 

Each sting that bids nor sit, nor stand, but go ! 

Be our joys three-parts pain ! 

Strive, and hold cheap the strain ; 

Learn, nor account the pang ; dare, never grudge 
the throe. 

For thence, — a paradox 

Which comforts while it mocks, — 

Shall life succeed in that it seems to fail.’" 


XIV. 


I CAME straight up to London after I left 
Madie, and here I met Mr. and Mrs. How- 
land for the first time since Harry and Edith’s 
wedding-day. And yet it needs keener eyes 
than mine to detect any marked change in 
their outward appearance. What of the inner 
life, I wondered? — That Mrs. Howland was 
unchanged in that, I soon perceived ; for she 
is now, as she was then, a woman of the world. 
But thank God, Mr. Howland’s experience has 
been rich and full, and as we sat together in 
the evening, waiting for his wife’s return 
from a dinner-party, he told me how this 
new blessed life began. Oh, I am so happy, so 
thankful, he says I helped him to say the “ Our 
Father ” prayer. And he dates his first really 
serious thoughts to the long-ago hour when he 
asked me the name of my God. That ques- 
tion determined him to seek to discern by 

(301) 


302 DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN, 

what name he himself knew God — and yet he 
was slow in coming to the Light, though Ber- 
tie Griffin’s holy life and peaceful departure 
did much toward making faith real to him. 
Mr. Howland’s religious experiences belong to 
a fast passing generation, and where Harry 
Griffin, according to the trend of this era, en- 
countered speculative difficulties, he had met 
practical questions. The old-time stumbling- 
block, — the inconsistencies of professing Chris- 
tians, — which we of this day push aside by 
claiming every man has a right to his own 
opinion, had sorely troubled him. He was 
perplexed also by the contest between emo- 
tional and ethical Christianity. And it had 
taken him long to discover that “ the true 
spiritual condition of a soul is not to be meas- 
ured by one man’s dependence on his im- 
pulses, and another man’s dependence on his 
habitual methods of thought and action, but 
by the vital question — ‘ Has the love of God 
reached the Will and become the Master of 
action?”’ When Mr. Howland touched this 
heart of Truth, he made no delay in probing 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 303 

his soul for a reply. But it cost him no slight 
struggle to answer, for it demanded the yield- 
ing of his will to God’s will, and quiet as he 
seemed, self-will was naturally strong in him ; 
but there is no strength of spirit where there 
is no strength of will, hence the struggle was 
worth all it cost. Among the many tests of 
his sincerity was the rising above the narrow- 
ness of creed which so controlled his son and 
daughter. I mean “ the habit of judging of 
the spirit and inward life of a man from the 
religion he has embraced, and thus allowing 
creeds to separate, as if the souls of men were 
of different natures, and one God was not the 
Father of all Spirits.” Mr. Plowland had 
also to wage warfare with a tendency that is 
wont to try reserved, self-contained people by 
tempting them to dwell unduly on the state 
of their own feelings and motives. When he 
discovered this danger, his self-knowledge be- 
came his self-deliverance, and straightway he 
set himself to learn the alphabet of Christian 
service, not by pondering self, feelings, and mo- 
tives, or by systematic instructions, or the study 


304 


DRIFTINGS FROM MID-OCEAN. 


of the ten Commandments, but by study of 
the Christ, the Way, the Truth, and the Life.” 

It was this study which had so changed the 
man who years before had been chiefly ab- 
sorbed in the accumulation of wealth, for the 
sake of the honor this world is apt to accord 
its possessor. It was this study, too, that had 
led Mr. Howland by the surest, simplest way, 
to the submission of will which is a man’s 
greatest strength, as well as his greatest vic- 
tory over self, and which leads on to the 
“ honoring and serving our Father and honor- 
ing and serving His children.” No wonder 
when Mr. Howland’s spirit has been thus 
illumined he has not grown old during the 
years that have intervened between our part- 
ing and meeting. You know the promise 
is, They who wait on the Lord shall renew 
their strength,” they are free to mount on 
wings, and when the soul is kept young by 
this Heavenward soaring, gray hairs and a 
long count of earthly years can no more make 
a spirit old, than a flurry of November snow- 
flakes can make winter. 


XV. 


I T was a beautiful afternoon yesterday, when 
I returned from London, and a wonderful 
sunset time ; lights reached far out over the 
quiet waters of the Bay, and back into the 
country, where the frost has wilted the grass 
and hardened the ground. When I arrived at 
Cliff House, the sun had just gone down in 
the west, and that is a glad sight for a woman 
old as I am to behold, for at my age 

“ Stepping Westward seems to be 
A kind of Heavenly destiny.” 

It was time also for the breeze to freshen, 
and fill the sails of the ships, riding at 
anchor outside the harbor bar ; time for the 
turning ebb of the tide, and for the snow- 
white gulls to settle on the gently lapping 
waves ; time for the fisher lads to come home 

across the sands. But twilight lingers long 

(305) 


3o6 driftings from mid-ocean. 

here at the North, and between the daylight 
and the dark, I am wondering what message 
this record will whisper as you read it. Do 
you ask, “ What would I have it say ? ” I re- 
ply, That religion is not simply a state 
of human character; that is morality; it is 
our whole inward and outward life, as that 
life is sustained, colored, and inspired by our 
personal relations with God and Christ. With- 
out that we might have all that Philosophy, 
all that Morality, all that Knowledge can be- 
stow, and yet we should lose all that depends 
on Faith, and unless we have Faith, strength 
will pass away, the rich colors fade out of ex- 
istence, hope will droop, and life languish, 
only Faith gives a Heavenly Arm to lean on, 
and Infinite Life to draw from.” Believe, and 
you will know. 


XVI. 


I HAVE come now to almost the last leaf 
of this my after-math journal, but before I 
close you ask for a page telling of myself. 

What ! would you have the story of a mid- 
dle-aged woman? No, no; life is too full, 
stories are too many for such a tale. Enough 
for you to know is, that I am still with Lady 
Ann ; I call the Cliff House home. As for my 
past it is as dear as ever, but I learned long 
ago that it is by present service, and not by 
memories of the past, that I am bidden to fol- 
low Christ. Meanwhile at morning, noon, and 
night I say to myself, 

“ To meet worth living for ; 

Worth dying for to meet ; 

To meet worth parting for. 

Bitter forgot in sweet ; 

To meet, worth parting before 
Never to part more.” 

And so I wait till God calls ; I have plenty of 

(307) 


% 


3o8 driftings from mid-ocean. 

work. This sea-coast town is like a nest, built 
between two cliffs, that shut in a dangerous 
Bay. There is never a spring and never an 
autumn without storms, after which hearts 
need comforting, bodies need helping. The 
fisher-folk are poor. But as you say, this is 
an out-of-the-way corner of the world, and I 
seem pushed aside. And yet I would not if I 
could choose the time or place touched by my 
life. And however limited its seeming sphere, 
the rippling circle of influence can spread far ; 
the links that bind souls are subtle and fine. 
Yes, I am content with God’s ordering, for 
“ All life is good 

When the one blessed lesson is understood. 

Of its most sacred brotherhood.” 

And I am satisfied 

“ So might I toiling morn to eve 
Some purpose in my life fulfill, 

And ere I pass some work achieve 
To live and move when I am still. 

“ I ask not with that work combined 

My name should down the ages move. 

But that my toil such end may find 
As man may bless and God approve.” 


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